Vows
by Kaprou
Summary: Peter Parker, Web of Shadows AU. Peter is getting married. This is NOT a wedding you want to be the wedding planner for! Read, review, recommend. 9 chapters. (Complete)
1. Preparation

Peter opened the door, knocking. "Anybody home?"

"In here, Peter," a voice called from the kitchen. He closed the door behind himself and strolled in.

"How is my favorite lady this morning?" Peter asked with a grin as he opened his arms.

The frail old woman in the kitchen gave him a hug, and squeezed him for a moment. Then she stepped back.

"Why Peter," she said, "you look positively radiant. What's going on?"

"I'm engaged to Mary Jane!" Peter said with a grin. "I'm going to be married, Aunt May!"

"Oh, Peter," she glowed, "that's _wonderful_ news! When did you propose?"

"Last night," Peter said, letting the truth bend a little for the sake of the moment.

"Well, I knew it would happen," Aunt May said primly. "I've got something for you that I've been saving for this day."

**xXx**

"It's my grandmother's engagement band," Peter explained as Mary Jane looked into the old ring box. "I mean, I wasn't really ready to hand you a ring when you proposed to me."

"You were sort of in your underwear," Mary Jane said slyly. Then she looked at the ring. It was gold, not at all fancy, a simple modest diamond. "I think it's perfect, Peter," she said, and she gave him a hug. "This is going to make things a _lot_ less awkward. I figured we'd go ring shopping today, but that's pretty well fixed that."

"I'm glad you like it," Peter said with a tinge of relief.

"If I was in it for the engagement rock, I'd have stayed with Harry," Mary Jane said archly. "I think it's sweet that you gave me your grandma's ring. Now. I think we should get married on November first."

"Uh, that's three weeks away," Peter said, startled.

"Exactly," Mary Jane said with a nod. "I want to keep this simple, low fuss, quick, and cheap. After all, I'm in it for you, big guy. And the way you live, I want to get married sooner rather than later in case somebody cripples or kills one of us." She smiled at him sweetly.

"When you're right, you're right," Peter shrugged.

_"And believe me, Parker, she's right," Mordred giggled as he watched them closely in his scrye. "A wedding! Such a happy occasion! Everyone will be there!" He steepled his fingers, leaning back. "Now. How can I use this?"_

_He swiftly stood and strode over to his stone circle. He picked up the knuckle bones. "Parker," he breathed. He tossed the knucklebones. They scattered, and he examined them closely. "Hm," he said, tracing along one of the family lines. "Interesting." He chose one of the bones, then threw the batch again. _

_"Grandfather, eh?" he mused, a smile growing on his face as he examined the new circle of divination. "Fascinating…" The scrye remained open in the background, he half listened to their insipid chatter._

"So we've got Tandy and Tyrone as bridesmaid and groomsman," Mary Jane said, laying on her stomach on the bed and kicking her bare feet lazily as she tapped her pen against her teeth. She glanced down at her spiral notebook. "I want Gwen for my matron of honor. God, that woman is such a matron."

Peter grinned. "Yeah."

"So who do you want to be your best man?" she asked.

Peter walked over to the window and looked out for a long moment. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I've put a lot of thought into it. I know Doug isn't going to want a public role in all this, Strange is too weird and old and stuff. Logan left without a forwarding address and I wouldn't trust him or Kravinoff to behave at a public event anyway. When I think through my friends…" he shook his head. Then he turned and leaned against the windowframe, frankly meeting Mary Jane's eyes.

"I think I know where this is going," she said coolly.

"I talked to Harry," Peter said. "I know first hand what the darkstone can do, how it can whisper to you, what it can drive you to do. And he's free of it. He's made his mistakes. But, dammit, I want to believe in him. I _need_ to believe in him."

"So you want Harry Osborn as your best man," Mary Jane said.

"Yes," Peter said. "How do you feel about that?"

She rolled over on her back and looked up at the ceiling. "How do I feel about that," she wondered. "Well, I did date him. I know him as well as anybody. And he's done a lot of growing up. We've had a lot of good times. But he still creeps me out after… what happened in the restaurant. I don't know what to think."

"You two would never be alone together," Peter said. "Maybe this is a good way to rebuild trust."

She rolled over and met his eyes. "Aren't you a bit uncomfortable about having him as best man? Since we were a couple not too long ago?"

Peter shook his head. "I was there during that relationship. I know what you two had. I know what we have. It just isn't the same thing," Peter said quietly.

"That's awfully grown up of you," Mary Jane said reflectively.

"You and me. It's right. I think you're over Harry."

"I am," Mary Jane said. "Okay. He can be in the wedding party. Now I've made a concession so it's your turn to make the rest of them," she said with a wicked grin. "You get to pick out the church and arrange the honeymoon."

"Get a church for All Saints Day," Peter said. "Check."

"You realize it's the day after Halloween, so all masks get put away for this," Mary Jane said.

"I know that," Peter said. He paused. "You don't expect me to retire the mesh for good, do you?"

"No," she said firmly. "I fell in love with you because you're this dangerous hero guy, among other things. I know you'd just shrivel up and die if you didn't get to go mach nine with your hair on fire every now and then."

"Cool," Peter grinned.

"Just keep it to a dull roar around the wedding, please," Mary Jane admonished sternly. "Can we please minimize the weirdness for that one day?"

"I'll marry you or die trying," Peter said seriously. Then he grinned. "Speaking of weirdness, time to take a crack at the guest list. We have to get invites out there."

"Three weeks to do everything," Mary Jane mused, shaking her head. "I'm insane."

"Well, yeah, but we'll do it. Because this wedding is going to be my finest moment, when I pull it off."

"Your finest?" Mary Jane said innocently. "Better than breaking a major crime boss?"

"Oh yeah."

"Better than corralling mystic freak jobs?"

"Definitely."

She grinned at him. "Better than hanging upside down in the subway taking pictures of trains?"

Silence.

She arched an eyebrow.

"Gimmie a minute to think it over!" he protested. Then he relented. "Yeah. Way better than that even."

"Good," Mary Jane said brightly. "Then you won't mind coming with me to pick out dresses tomorrow." Peter groaned, and dropped to the floor and crawled under the bed. Mary Jane hung her head down over the side, her hair brushing the floor as she peered into the shadows where he hid.

"It's not so bad," she said relentlessly. "We can pick out tuxes too. And how do you feel about roses?"

"Poor," he whined from the shadows under the bed. "Roses make me feel poor."

Mary Jane laughed her best evil genius laugh.

**xXx**

Illyana was draped across the couch in Strange's parlor. The lights were low, her hooves dangled off the end of the couch, her tail was slung over the back, and she munched away with a spoon and a jar of crunchy peanut butter.

Strange walked in and stood behind the couch, looking at the television. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better," she said. "I got some comfort food and a movie with Leonardo diCaprio sans shirt. Right about now Prime is _the_ place to be."

Strange chuckled. "I'm going upstairs to do some work for the Planetary. Let me know if you need anything."

"Check," she said. "Any luck finding Mordred?"

"He's not on Prime," Strange shrugged. "I can begin sweeping dimensions looking for him, but he relocates fairly frequently, and he's skilled at hiding." Strange sighed. "I might be better off waiting for him to make another move."

"We'll kick his pointy butt," Illyana said confidently.

"I certainly hope you're right," Strange said with a fond smile. "See you tomorrow."

Strange ghosted out, and Illyana sighed and snuggled down into the couch, daintily kicking a hoof. "Life has been good to me," she reflected.

The phone rang, and she picked it up. "Strange residence, Illyana attending," she said politely.

"Illyana, this is Peter. I was hoping you'd pick up," he said.

"You were?" she said cautiously.

"Yes," Peter said. "You know how you agreed to help with the wedding. We need a coordinator. Will you do that for us?"

"You bet," Illyana said. "I like Mary Jane. She seems cool, if a little misguided. You I'm still not sure about. You seem like kind of a dweeb."

"So it's gonna be like that. Fine. At you're honest," Peter muttered. "I'm so glad you'll help. We get started tomorrow."

"What's up?" she said.

"I want you to meet my Aunt May and check out the church we're going to try to get. So we can do all that at once if you come to church with Aunt May and me."

"Ouch," she said.

"What," Peter said. "You don't think the reverend would relish the opportunity to preach to a demon sorceress?"

"Definitely a dweeb," Illyana sighed. "But I said I'd help and I will."

"If you could pick me up at seven thirty we can go surprise my Aunt May and take it from there," Peter said with an audible grin.

"How should I dress?" Illyana asked innocently. "Tail, horns, hooves, armor, sword, pointy teeth, the usual?"

"You might not fit in," Peter said delicately. "Nothing racy. Pretend you are three times your age and fashion impaired and you'll fit right in."

"Ooh," Illyana said with a delighted wince. "Score one for the choir boy. This might be fun after all."

**xXx**

Aunt May answered the doorbell, puzzled as to who could be at her door. She opened it and her face lit up as she saw Peter in a suit.

"Hello, Peter," she said. "And who is this?"

"This is Illyana Rasputin. She's going to be the wedding planner for me and MJ. I thought it would be a good idea for her to meet you."

"Come in, come in," Aunt May said as she stood back and let the two young adults into the living room. "Pleased to meet you, Ms. Rasputin. I've just got another thing or two to finish up and I'll be ready to go."

"Take your time," Peter said, pretending to glance at his watch. "We're early." Aunt May scurried off into the kitchen.

"You _definitely_ look like a dweeb today," Illyana said, glancing over Peter's distinctly boring and ill fitting gray suit. "You even have a tie tack. I didn't know people actually wore tie tacks."  
"Too much time hanging out with hippie wizards," Peter grinned at her. "Hey. If this suit was serviceable in the late eighties it should still serve."

"I hate men's fashion," Illyana sniffed. "It's not fair."

"You look good today," Peter said. Illyana's square cut bangs had been curled, her hair up in a bun. She wore a simple knee length dress with a modest floral print, hose, and low heel pumps. Her sleeves extended down to her wrists.

"Thrift store shopping," Illyana said with a shrug. "I took you at your word."

Peter quickly hid his laugh as his aunt scurried back into the living room. "All ready to go," she said brightly. "Your dress is lovely," she added with a warm smile at Illyana, who had the grace to nod her thanks with a smile.

**xXx**

"You've had enough training," Mordred said to the wino he had rescued from the alleyway. "You look a bit more presentable than you once did."

The man that stood before him wore a long coat over his heavyset body. His hair was peculiar and wild, sweeping up and away from his square, pudgy face. He wore a pair of goggles over his eyes. When he smiled, his sharp teeth were revealed.

"Thank you, Mathter," the apprentice replied.

"Are you ready for your mission?" Mordred asked in the condescending tone a parent would use with a small child.

His apprentice nodded.

"What is your name?" Mordred asked as it occurred to him he did not know.

"I am the Owl," his apprentice replied.

A slow smile uncurled on Mordred's face. "Very well, The Owl," he said, "my divination indicated that you know both Strange and Parker."

"Parker," the Owl hissed with distaste. "Thtrange."

"You will not be observed, or your handiwork observed, by either of them," Mordred said. "Instead, you will follow my instructions to unleash someone else that will. You must not be suspected, much less caught. You are a part of my overall scheme on Prime. Do you understand me?"

The Owl nodded vigorously.

"Good," Mordred said. "Let's return to Prime."

**xXx**

The organ was playing the postlude when Peter and Illyana and Aunt May were in the receiving line after the service.

"I may never forgive you," Illyana said under her breath at a volume she knew he could hear.

Peter just grinned. It was his turn to talk to the preacher.

"Reverend Eckridge," he said warmly. "Great sermon. Hey, do you have a minute so we could talk when you're done here?"

"Certainly," replied the reverend. He was short, with a combover hairdo and a heavyset build. His face beamed with general benign goodwill. Peter nodded, shook his hand, and stepped on down the line.

"Charmed," Illyana said shortly, allowing the reverend to shake her hand and giving him a brief smile that stopped just short of frosty.

She cornered Peter at the other end of the foyer. "Parker," she said, "I've been through a number of dimensions and I've seen zealotry and this is a very pale and watery shade of it."

"Down girl," Peter said with a grin. "I keep forgetting you were raised by wolves."

She glared at him playfully for a moment. "I get it," she said. "This is all because I called you a dweeb, isn't it."

"Pretty much," Peter nodded, trying to keep his grin under control. "If the shoe fits, right?"


	2. Awakening

**xXx**

"Thanks for seeing us this afternoon," Peter said. "I'm Peter Parker, May Parker's nephew, and this is Illyana Rasputin."

"Pleased to meet you, Illana," the preacher said, shaking her hand. "Peter," he said reproachfully. "I remember when you were yea high."

Peter politely laughed, and he and Illyana sat down across the desk from the reverend as he settled into his leather chair.

"So what brings you two to my office?" he asked.

"I'm engaged to be married," Peter said. "Illyana is my wedding planner. If I could reserve the church and if you would be willing to conduct the ceremony, I'd appreciate it. Illyana wanted to meet you and look the building over."

"Sounds fine, what day?"

"November first, it's a Saturday," Peter said.

"Three weeks from now," the reverend said, raising his eyebrows. Peter smiled apologetically. The reverend consulted the black-bound planner on his desk thoughtfully for a minute. "Well, you're in luck. The building is open. So is my schedule. So let's get you set up." He picked up his pencil and scratched information onto the schedule book.

"Excuse me sir," Illyana said politely. "May I look around the church?"

"Go ahead, you just go ahead, Lydia," the reverend smiled.

She took her leave, and Peter got down to business with the reverend. Illyana breathed in and out and counted to ten as she left the office, followed a short corridor, skirted the children's event happening in the fellowship hall, and headed for the sanctuary.

She walked in, and the afternoon sunlight lay in beams across the pews, picking out the dancing motes of dust in the air. The room reverberated with silence. Her tread was noiseless on the carpet as she walked up the central aisle, looking at the dais and the podium, at the paintings hung on the back wall, at the arranged plants. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, and simply felt the space.

The building wasn't all that old, but Illyana felt a trace of a faith tradition; this room was only used for worship. She let the silence and sunlight bear her up, and she felt very old and very young at the same time. She felt connected to the room as she felt the room connect to a thousand others like it, stretching across time and distance.

"Sacred space," she whispered with a smile. Then she shook her head and strolled out the back.

**xXx**

The setting sun bathed New York City in a crimson shroud of light as the hunched figure scurried down the alley behind the vast stone building. The Owl glanced back over his shoulder, a sneer affixed to his face, and he hunched by the iron bars over a basement window.

Hissing a few foul words of Cthonian, he gestured. The bars shriveled, then hissed and steamed a bit. He kicked at them, and the brittle bars snapped to fragments. The Owl scrabbled into the basement.

For what could have been hours, the strange hunched man wandered the sub basements, the annex cellars, the reserve collections, hunting for an elusive spot in a wall.

Finally, the Owl placed his trembling hand flat on the wall and whispered a few words, a name. A faint tremor shifted in the wall.

Lenny Schmidt quietly grooved to the jazz in his headphones as he steered the floor buffer around the huge lobby of the dim museum. He was always careful to get the corners and around the bases of the statues. He was lost in a particularly delirious saxophone solo when a shadow detached from the others and pounced on him. He didn't stand a chance.

The janitor was bound and gagged in the center of a chalk circle on the floor. The Owl had cleared everything away from a stretch of wall. He set up candles around the circle as the janitor struggled and wordlessly shouted through his gag. Then, with deliberate carefulness, the Owl settled opposite the bare spot of wall.

He began to chant in a language that was not well suited for the human voice. He paused, then shouted a name, then chanted again. He began to pick up speed.

With a loud snap, a crack pushed across two feet of wall. The Owl, lost in his rhapsody of incantation, seemed to be oblivious except for the acceleration of his chant.

In a shower of gravel, concrete, and dust, the wall exploded outward in a sudden burst as whatever was within it answered the Owl's call.

The Owl threw his head back and cackled in diabolical glee as heavy frayed cables shot out of the wall and plunged into the janitor. The cables flexed, and blood flowed up through and over them, pulled towards a desperately hungering darkness in the wall…

**xXx**

The autumn day was crisp and clear, but warm enough for the garage to be thrown open to the elements. Tyrone sat at the card table, shuffling a deck of cards as Mary Jane and Peter strolled up to the garage.

"G-glad you t-two c-cc-could m-make it," Tyrone said amiably.

"It's not like we're late," Peter said. He sat at the table, looking around. "Where's Tandy?" he asked as Mary Jane sat opposite him.

"Sh-sh-she-e w-went-to g-gg-g-gget s-some s-songs," Tyrone said.

"Hey gang," Tandy said as she opened the door from the kitchen and joined them at the card table. "I wanted to take a minute and talk about songs."

"Sounds good," Peter said with a shrug. "You sing it I'll beat it. Something like that."

Tandy put a spiral notebook on the table. She touched the cover as she collected her thoughts. "This notebook is why I wanted a band," she said. "In here I have lyrics I've been writing for about three years. Maybe longer. Song ideas." She looked at the spiral for a moment. "I've got songs about parents and being invisible to them. Songs about not being perfect enough. Songs about friends that have double crossed me. There's anger in here about how the world isn't fair. About how sometimes nothing makes sense."

She picked up the notebook and tossed it over to the trash can, where it thudded against the inside and slid to the bottom. She leaned forward, elbows on the table, and looked into the eyes of the other band members.

"Here's the thing," she said as they blinked at her in surprise. "I don't think that's what we should be about. It's been keeping me up nights. This band can be really cool, people. We are going to be able to get and hold the attention of listeners, we're going to have fans. As I got to thinking about that, I realized there's only one thing we can do."

"What's that?" Mary Jane asked, her eyes wide.

"Bring hope," Tandy said. "Bring light to those who are in the dark. Bring peace to those that are conflicted. We have to offer a better way. It's our responsibility."

It was very quiet around the table.

"I'm down with that," Peter said, impressed.

"Sign me up," Mary Jane said.

"C-cool," Tyrone stuttered. He grinned ruefully. "C-can we d-dd-do Sh-sh-hiny D-Death Metal?"

Tandy smiled at him. "Not really," she said. "That does bring us to our next point. I'm pretty flexible on the keyboards, within my limits. I think Parker can keep up with whatever we want to do. So what songs should we do for starters?"

"And we don't have a band name yet," Mary Jane pointed out.

"How about Eyes Open?" Peter said.

"I like it," Mary Jane said thoughtfully. Tyrone nodded his approval.

"I'm flattered, guys," Tandy said with a bit of a grin.

"This is your thing," Peter said. "So what are we going to play?"

It was slow and halting, but the rendition of "Spyhunter" that rolled out of the garage was still sassy. A sleek Jag pulled up and parked in the driveway. Harry and Gwen got out of the car and approached the den of noise that the band occupied.

All four band members were wearing sunglasses, and Tyrone had his low-slung groove on while Tandy let her fingers pause and ripple around the theme. Peter hunched over his drum set, his stuffed Animal slowly twisting as he massaged the rhythm out of the drum heads with twirling sticks. Mary Jane gamely hung in there, hitting a chord when she knew where it landed.

Tandy gestured, and the band let up. Harry and Gwen applauded.

"So we in the right place for the wedding party or what?" Harry said.

"You bet," Mary Jane said, slinging her guitar off and squinting at the clock. "Holy cow, noon already. Okay, people. Great practice. We'll put this stuff up in a minute. For now, it's time for marching orders," she said with a grin. She looked around. "Where's Illyana?"

"She said she'd catch up," Peter said. "She's getting the invites in the mail this morning."

"Right," Mary Jane nodded. "Okay, Gwen and Tandy and me are going to pick out fabric and patterns for the bridesmaid dresses. Peter, Harry, and Tyrone are going _right now_ to get fitted for tuxes. I already have my dad's measurements," she said, fishing a card out of her pocket and handing it to Peter. "So we should be all taken care of. Any questions?"

"No ma'am," Peter said. "We menfolk know our duty."

"See you at the church at six," Mary Jane said to Peter.

"I'll be there," he said with a grin. "Trust me."

"You okay back there?" Harry asked, glancing in the rearview. Tyrone sat sideways on the bench seat behind the two front seats.

"D-dude, I'm c-cc-cool!" Tyrone grinned. "This is-z-zawesome!"

"Well, Peter," Harry said, "I think it's really cool that you and Mary Jane are getting married." His grin turned mischievous. "You nervous?"

"Of course," Peter said as though it were obvious. "I'm getting married. It's terrifying on so many levels."

"Especially to Mary Jane," Harry said. "Seig Heil!"

Peter laughed. "She told me I had better marry her," he said. "I didn't dare refuse. A man could get hurt doing that."

They all laughed.

**xXx**

The women reached the back of the fabric store.

"I'll look at patterns," Gwen said, sitting down at the table with large pattern books on it. "You all find some fabric."

"Fair enough," Mary Jane nodded. She wandered into the bolts of cloth, and Tandy followed her.

"Illyana said she knows a really fast seamstress, so we can pick everything out today," Mary Jane said.

"That's cool," Tandy nodded. She took a drape of fabric between her fingers and felt the texture. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" she asked quietly.

"Who ever does?" Mary Jane replied without looking at her. "Peter's life is dangerous. It's like he's some karmic magnet, like he did something really bad once and he's going to spend the rest of his life burning it off. But you know," she said, turning to Tandy. "He's mysterious, and goofy, and dangerous, and hopelessly idealistic, and vulnerable, and the toughest guy I've ever known…" She sighed. "I love him. Even if it doesn't last. Even if one or both of us get killed. It's worth it to me."

"And he's a great dancer," Tandy teased with a grin.

"That too," Mary Jane said with a sly and knowing smile.

"Hey, I found a pattern!" Gwen said, bringing the paper packet to Mary Jane and Tandy.

Mary Jane took one look at it and smiled triumphantly at Gwen.

"Perfect," she said.

**xXx**

Reverend Eckridge hummed to himself as he let himself into the locked church foyer as the last traces of dusk faded from the cloudy sky. He checked his watch. Quarter to six. He smiled to himself as he usually did when he was early for an appointment. Then he strolled through the dimness of the foyer, into the sanctuary, towards the back of the church.

He stopped short when he saw a shadowed figure standing at the pulpit, gripping it.

"Oh!" he said. "You gave me a fright. I'm sorry, I've got a meeting this evening. Please come back tomorrow." He shivered as a chill breeze drifted through the sanctuary.

"But I have sinned," the stout figure in the shadows of the dais said in a deliberate European accent. "There is sin in my soul, and you can help me."

"How is that?" Eckridge asked uncertainly, fear seeping through him.

In the dimness behind the podium, Eckridge thought he saw the gleam of light on teeth. "Feed my sheep," the intruder said slowly. "Or wolves. Whatever."

With a startlingly loud rasping buzz, a length of frayed cable shot down at the Reverend from the man up front. The pudgy preacher managed a short, breathy, choked off scream as the cable plunged into his chest and squirmed…


	3. Crime Scene

**xXx**

"You know, pre-marital counseling is where all the ugly stuff comes out," Peter grinned at Mary Jane as they turned into the church parking lot. "This is the part where the preacher warns me that you tend to be domineering."

"And where I'll finally discover that you have a classic male fear of commitment," she shot back, arching an eyebrow. She parked the car.

They strolled up to the side door that led to the Reverend's office. Peter tried it, then blinked with surprise when it was locked.

"Huh," he said. He knocked on the door. Waited. A chill breeze whirled by. Peter cleared his throat, glanced around. Then stiffened.

Mary Jane noticed. She sighed. "It was inevitable, really," she said. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," Peter said, sifting his senses as he stared around. "Wait in the car."

"Hell no," she said. "The safest place on this block right now is right behind you."

He looked at her for a moment, then shrugged as a suitable counter-argument didn't present itself. He hopped over the railing and padded over to the windows into the Reverend's office. The lights weren't on. He squinted at the windows, saw one where the latch wasn't quite latched.

An adhered nudge later, the window slid open. Peter's lithe form barely slipped through. He poked his head out.

"Stay by the door, I'll let you in," he said. Then he slid the window shut.

Mary Jane felt very exposed and vulnerable, alone by the locked door. The moment seemed to stretch on forever, but she was still startled when the door rattled and slid open. Peter glanced at her briefly, then turned back to the church.

"Stay behind me," he said. "Something is very wrong here. Can you smell it?"

"Smell?" Mary Jane said. She sniffed. "No."  
He nodded. "Just as well. Not a word, now." They closed the door to outside, and Peter prowled toward the sanctuary. Mary Jane noted that if he had fur on his back it would be bristling right now; her cat had a similar look when stalking a mouse or a bit of cellophane.

They walked out onto the dais at the front of the sanctuary. "Wait here," Peter said. "I'll stay in sight, but I'm looking for clues."

"Do your thing," Mary Jane said, leaning back against the wall and glancing around nervously.

Peter's eyes flickered around, taking everything in as he slowly walked down to the middle aisle. He squatted effortlessly, and reached under a pew. Standing, he had a fat legal pad folder. He opened it, then closed it and put it down on the pew. He squatted again, and touched something under the pew. Looking around sharply, he approached the other side door that led to the dais.

"What did you find?" Mary Jane said in a stage whisper, somehow reluctant to speak louder.

"Blood," Peter replied softly. Mary Jane shivered.

Senses at full battle ready alert, Peter pushed the door open and followed it into the narrow room that bordered the dais. He glanced around. A pew was in this space, a box of hymnals. He touched the pew. The cushion had been punctured, white fluff poked out of it. Peter glanced at the wall, looked at the trim on the other side of the room. It had deep scratches in it. He looked up.

There was a crawlspace, and its sliding door was scratched. He hopped up and adhered to the ceiling with the fingertips of one hand as he slowly slid the crawlspace open. Steeling his nerve, he popped his head up to have a look.

He came face to face with the eye sockets of the corpse of Reverend Eckridge. Shriveled, empty eyes lay flat in the sockets, the fat face was now lean and frozen in horror. The body had been broken and folded and stuffed between a rafter and a roof joist. Peter steeled his jaw and quickly dropped.

"Our meeting is cancelled," he said tersely. "I need your cell phone."

Mary Jane quickly fished it out of her purse and handed it to him. Peter closed his eyes, letting his mind remember a number for him. Then he punched it into the phone. Waited.

"Yes," he said in a normal voice that seemed oddly loud in the hushed church. "Brilhart, it's me Parker. Yeah. Uh, are you really busy right now? Just finished dinner? See, I've got a problem here. Would you mind meeting me at Trinity Hill Baptist? Here's the address," he said, rattling it off. "Look, I'm there right now and… well, I'm going to wait for you. Yes sir. Thanks. Okay. Bye." He hung up and handed the phone back to Mary Jane.

"Are you insane?" Mary Jane said in wonder. "This place is going to be crawling with cops. We plan to get married here, ya know."

"Our wedding is two weeks from today," Peter said calmly. "Reverend Eckridge's dead body is neatly folded up there. If the police have the body and conduct an investigation, we'll be better off time wise than if they realize he's missing and start hunting for him. And I don't want to move the body or tinker with this. Furthermore, if we proceeded and they found him two days before the wedding, we'd have a problem. I gotta protect my credibility at this point, and if I call it in as soon as I find it, to somebody who knows me, I'm better off."

"Do you come up with contingency plans for this stuff?" Mary Jane asked. "You worked that out pretty fast. I bet last night you were just laying in bed thinking, 'Hm. If I find the mutilated body of our preacher, I'll call Brilhart.'" She wavered. "There's a dead body right there?" she asked weakly, pointing. Peter nodded.

She sat down on the pew, struggling. "Oh God," she said. "I don't want to throw up."

"Come on," Peter said, opening the door that led back to the recreation room. "Let's get you some… fresh…"

She looked up as the chill breeze drifted across her. Joining Peter, she gasped and put her hand over her mouth.

A huge hole had been torn in the back wall of the rec room, seven feet to a side, through brick and plaster.

"Okay," Peter pattered, his eyes still keen, "I'm guessing this is how the perp got in."

"I just hope he's gone," Mary Jane said in a small voice.

"I think he is," Peter said. "For now."

**xXx**

The Owl was pacing back and forth over the dusty floor of the loft. He reached one stained wall and turned to measure out deliberate steps towards the other.

He hesitated, ears perking up. The rasp of steel on stone. He turned to the huge windows at one end of the warehouse loft. They were hanging open, drifting slightly in the breeze. A frayed steel cable squirmed up over the side, it's texture buzzing against the windowframe. The cable wrapped around a pillar and then a heavy-set man rose into view. The cables retracted under his long heavy coat with a rattling buzz that was quite disconcerting.

The newcomer stepped down into the room, his face gray and his horn rim glasses fogged with dust. He smiled, his teeth dry.

"Your trip went well?" the Owl said.

"Indeed," nodded the heavy man as he strode into the room. "The grandson of Forrest Parker knows he is threatened. They will need a new minister," he added with a wide grin that did his squat face no favors. "Many thanks for finding this 'Peter Parker' for me."

"I am here to help you," the Owl said with a gracious bow. He straightened. "Who be grandfather Parker?"

"A miserable thrice-cursed traitor," the big man spat. "He had a chance to create greatness from the ashes of the world and he turned away from the path of power. He infiltrated the Red Skull's organization. He came with ruin in the shadows of his lies and plots. I, Otto Octavious, worked towards the integration of unholy magic and science to bring about an age of darkness that would make the worst superstitious and aggressive ignorance of the Dark Ages into a mere twilight. While Rasputin and I worked feverishly to transform the world, Parker couldn't see past the invisible lines of geo-political boundaries and foolish prattling politics."

He slowly turned to face the Owl, his eyes glittering behind dusted and cracked lenses. "It is no accident," he growled, "that I have been awoken at this time. It is my fate, my _fate,_ to kill Parker's grandson on the day of his wedding." He leaned back, satisfied that he had made his point. Then he threw back his head and laughed, a deep and booming sound that rolled through the loft. The Owl cackled, his screams of laughter counterpoint to the glee of the mad doctor.

**xXx**

Brilhart stepped off the box on the pew and hopped to the floor. He was pale, shaken. Peter raised his eyebrows.

"Nasty, huh," he said.

Brilhart faced off with him. "My home number is unlisted, Parker," he said. "I'm sure the station didn't give it to you. You're the one that called in that weapons cache on the docks last year."

"Got me," Peter said sheepishly.

"That's been bothering me, wondering who that was," Brilhart said. "As for this mess. What the hell is going on here?"

"I don't know," Peter said with a shake of his head. He glanced over at Mary Jane, who sat on a chair with her back to the wall. "The body up there is our minister," he said, looking back at Brilhart. "We're going to get married in this church.

"Congratulations," Brilhart said to Mary Jane and Peter. "Why does this stuff happen to you?" he asked Peter. "How did you get to be such a lightning rod? Now that we've been frank with each other, I'm dying to know."

"Me too," Peter said, eyebrows raised. "I have no idea."

"I have a theory," Mary Jane said. "I think he's burning off karma for something really bad he did once."

"Well get on with it," Brilhart said, squinting up at the scratched crawlspace. "It's too dangerous."

"There's more," Peter said. He walked over to the door that led into the rec room and opened it.

Brilhart blinked as he saw the huge hole in the wall. He followed Peter over to it.

"Looks like your friend's work again," he said in a low voice.

"Believe me, that's the first thing I looked for," Peter replied. "But see these grooves? This was done with something metal. Looks almost like a cable or a whip. Check out the serrations here, where a cable seemed to hit the wall and skid. This wasn't done by fists or claws or tools. I've never seen anything like this before." Peter turned to Brilhart. "I came to you first because I know you'll hear me out. I have absolutely no motive here. It's in my best interests for this to go without a hitch. The hitching. To go with… Okay, for this wedding to be uncomplicated."

"So you called me instead of 911 because you think I'll make allowances for you," Brilhart said, eyes narrow and jaw tight.

"Yes," Peter said with a nod, putting his palms together and nodding. "Yes, please."

Brilhart sighed and shook his head, rubbing his neck and squinting at the broken wall. "Dammit, I think you're right," he said. "I'm going to need a statement."

"We'll follow you to the station," Peter said in a small voice.

**xXx**

"Can I use your phone?" Peter asked as they got into Mary Jane's car in the parking lot of the police station.

"I swear," she said testily, "I've been to the police station more times since I met you than I have in my entire life previously. I knew the desk sergeant by name, Parker."

"Yeah, but can I use your phone?"

"Why don't you have your own phone?" she continued. "I mean really, you use more minutes on this thing than I do."

"I used to just use pay phones all the time, if you can believe it," Peter said, "but they're a dying breed. If I had a cell phone I'd leave it places. Bottom of lakes, in the infrastructure of buildings, somewhere on a two mile roof chase, places like that. Can I use your phone?"

"Yes, already, just use it." She stared at the road as she drove out of the parking lot.

Peter closed his eyes, remembered a number, punched it in.

"Illyana," he said after a few seconds. "I think we need to talk. Something's come up with the wedding. Yeah. Our minister was murdered by something weird at the church. Want to take a look? Okay. Yeah, see you then."

Peter disconnected the phone and stuck it back in Mary Jane's purse.

"So what was that about?" Mary Jane asked.

"Illyana is a wizard, Strange's apprentice. She can teleport around, she's got this really funky wizard outfit. Heh. Anyway. She's going to take a look and catch up with us at your place.

"Fair enough," Mary Jane said. "I suppose I don't get to drop you off at your place then."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea anyway," Peter muttered as he shifted in his seat. "I really think we should stick together until this is worked out. I don't want to leave you alone when something like that is running around."

Mary Jane heaved a sigh. "We have the most romantic sleepovers."


	4. Coiled

**xXx**

Illyana leaned against the side of the building, just out of sight of the forensics crew that gave the back of the church the feel of a kicked anthill. She let her eyes drift half closed, she opened herself to the auras and vibrations that were left behind by the violent entry.

She took a deep breath, and then shook her head and let the images go. A flare of light carried her to Limbo.

Her feet twisted into hooves and her knees slid back to bend the other direction as she squatted before her scrying pool. "Okay," she said. "Show me the intruder."

The pool shifted, swirls of impressions crossed it. But whatever she hunted was concealed and dispersed somehow. She frowned. Then she stood up, her legs shifting back to full human. She wiggled her toes and stepped into some clogs she kept by the throne. A gesture at the scrying pool pulled up an image of Peter. A stepping disk swirled up around her with a snap hiss and a spatter of dark eldritch fire.

She politely knocked on the door, and Peter answered it. "Come on in," he said. "I've been expecting you."  
"You sure got here fast," Mary Jane noted.

"The shortest distance between two points is not really a straight line," Illyana replied with a wink. "Now to business. The signal was funky as hell, but I managed to figure out what kind of boogeyman you've found this time. It's a vampire. I'm sure of it. All the signs are there, up to and including the drained victim."

"Didn't have teeth marks in the neck," Peter said doubtfully.

Illyana rolled her eyes. "Vampires feed on the life energy of their victims. The circulatory system carries life and air through the entire body, keeping it alive, in lock step with the heart. Therefore, that's the fastest way to plug into and drain life force. Vampires can use other energy sources, but that's the quickest and easiest and surest way to get energy for them. This joker didn't use his teeth. But he did drain the victim. I said it was funky, didn't I."

"So did you find it?" Peter asked hopefully, flexing his hand into a fist.

"No," Illyana said, glancing to the side. "The vamp is hidden in a network somewhere. They can diffuse their consciousness and energies through a system. That's what keeps them up, being able to draw from a network of power. Everything in that network is slowly degraded by the vampire's constant absorption of energy from it."

"For example?" Peter said, blinking. "You lost me."

"For example," Illyana said, sitting on Mary Jane's couch in her front room. Peter and Mary Jane followed and sat on chairs. "A vampire might settle on something as simple as a city block. In the tenement house on that block, violence would increase. Police would be afraid to go there. People living there would become listless, violent, ill at ease, haunted as the simple presence of the vampire grew like a tumor. It would feed from time to time, but the longer the vampire was there the more deeply ingrained it would be in its territory, drawing life force from the inhabitants in a way they could not even imagine. Other networks could be a corporate office, a courier service, a bridge club, it can be just about anything and it has a lot to do with how powerful the vampire is."

"So you can't see the vampire because it's submerged in one of those network things," Peter clarified.

"Right," Illyana said. "I can't really pinpoint it more than that. I'm getting these conflicting images. On the one hand, the signature feels pretty old. But the vampire must be a newcomer, it's got a very fresh feel to the aura." She shook her head. "In any case, it's possible this guy had it in for the Reverend and you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Doesn't matter at this point," Peter said with a shake of his head. "We can't risk that. And even if the attack had nothing to do with me," he added with a shiver, "I have this thing for vampires. I was almost turned into one myself. I'd like to see this through."

"It might be about you," Illyana said, looking at him steadily. "Seems you're in the middle of this permanent disaster zone."

Peter nodded. "Can I ask another favor of you?" he said.

"It'll cost you your firstborn," she deadpanned, then she grinned. "No really, just kidding. What's your favor."

"Mary Jane and I can look out for each other, but I have a lot going on… would you mind keeping an eye on Aunt May for me? I'm just… I'm worried, you know? I've dealt with things that targeted her before just to get to me. I really don't want that to happen, and this is as much warning as anybody can ask for."

Illyana sighed. "Okay. I'll try to keep an eye on her. I can't promise twenty four seven protection, as you know."

"Right," Peter said quickly. "I would really appreciate it."

"Well," Illyana said, rising. "It's been fun, next time we can toast marshmallows while we talk about ghost stories. In the meantime, I've got to go do my homework."

"You're still in school?" Mary Jane said, raising her eyebrows.

"Not quite so simple," Illyana said with a wry grin. "Tonight I'm going to be immersed in the wacky world of golem creation and destruction. Do contain your jealousy. I'm Strange's apprentice," she explained.

"Ah," Mary Jane nodded sagely as all became clear. "Drive safely," she nodded with an amused smile.

Illyana strolled to the back hallway and in a flare of light she was gone.

"That woman is seriously creepy," Mary Jane said with a little shiver. "She's totally cool."

Peter laughed a bit nervously, then heaved a deep sigh. "It's not too late for you to get out of this," he said.

She stood, pulled him up out of the chair, and led him over to the couch. They sat down together, and she looked at the floor to collect her thoughts.

"Peter," she said, "you get threatened by this monster, and your first instinct is to protect your aunt. I won't lie to you, I'm scared," she said, meeting his eyes. "But I expect there's going to be a lot of that. It's up to you to make it worth my while," she said softly as she leaned in close.

After a brief kiss, she leaned back. "After all, Peter Parker," she murmured, "_somebody_ has to look out for you in the real world while you're off fighting monsters." Her eyes narrowed with determination. "That's gonna be me."

**xXx**

Mary Jane made a check on her list. "Pew decorations," she said.

"Got the stuff here," Peter said, carrying a cardboard box in and setting it on the floor.

"Check," she said, making a mark. "Catering arrangements."

"Finalized them yesterday," Peter said.

"Check and mate," Mary Jane said, tossing the list aside. "We rock. Let's get these pew decorations put together."

"But this is girly work!" Peter mock protested. He sat on the floor with Mary Jane as she pulled out her sample bow with silk flower and ribbon.

"This is what it looks like," she said. "Go nuts, spider boy."

"I could have been one hell of an interior designer," Peter muttered as he pulled a length of ribbon out, cut it, twirled it into a bow, affixed it to the flower, the tule, stapled it in one smooth flourish of motion. Mary Jane just sat back.

"What?" Peter said. "You going to get in on this?"

"Peter," she said with a gentle smile, "if I work my butt off on this I'll get maybe three done before you're finished. You just take over."

Peter looked at her for a moment. "You're mean," he said. "Fine. I'll do your dirty work. But you have to keep me company." He glanced down and finished another decoration, scooped up the materials and started on the next.

"Deal," Mary Jane said.

Peter shook his head slightly as he tossed another finished one over towards the growing pile. "I don't know about this," he said. "A critter that targets a preacher. I was raised better than that. I always figured preachers were, you know, like the Red Cross. You don't target the medics and chaplains, you know what I mean?"

"I know," Mary Jane said, watching with fascination as his hands twirled through the process of making the decorations.

"I can't help but feel somehow responsible for what happened," Peter said, shaking his head slightly. "I have this horrible feeling I should move away from everyone so I could just roll into town like they do in the movies, and come out of nowhere to settle the bad guy gang that's going to blow up the mine and run everybody off the rancher's land and do other bad stuff like that. I feel like if I build a life I'll just be the stereotypical action hero where people I love get killed and I go on a spree of death." He sighed. "But sprees of death are fun only in fiction. In the real world, killing your way to the top is grim and messy business to be avoided. If I didn't know that before, Fisk taught it to me."

"But you didn't kill anybody," Mary Jane said.

Peter's voice was even as he kept his eyes on his work. "Call it a dry run. Neither of us wants to know what would have happened if Voorhees had killed you, or if Beck had killed Aunt May."

He worked in silence, and she had nothing to say to that.

**xXx**

"Damnation, you're _boring,_ woman!" Illyana yelled at the scrying pool as Aunt May meticulously polished the plate. "The plate is _dry_! Put it _down_!" She returned her attention to her reading.

A smaller demon was keeping her company, hunched over and watching Prime with idle fascination. It grunted and bounced a bit. Illyana looked back into the scry.

It was full dark outside, Aunt May was doing the dishes, and in the dining room a window was slowly sliding open.

Illyana was on her feet in a moment, and a stepping disk swirled around her.

She crouched on the roof, looking down into the back yard of Aunt May's small house. She hopped down, checked the window. Slight scratches, and it was half open. She slid it closed, and looked around.

"Well well well," said a voice laced with a European accent. "I've been waiting for you. I thought I sniffed a wizard back at the church."

She turned to see the shadowed figure standing with his back to a tree in the corner of the yard. She squared off with him, feeling the cold energy that radiated from his heavyset form.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Illyana coldly demanded.

"Hah," he replied. "Who are you? Why are you interested in this frail old woman?"

"A name, chuckles," she said. "Or we can have a disagreement," she added with the best lingering malice she could manage.

"I am Doctor Otto Octavius," he replied proudly. "You may call me Doctor Octavius. As for what I want with the old woman, that is simple. I will break her brittle bones, crush her skull like an eggshell, and leave her shattered remains in Peter Parker's pillowcase." A wicked smile creased his squat face. His thick horn-rimmed glasses were powdered with dust.

"Over my dead body," Illyana said with fierce determination. She flexed her hand, and reached into a small stepping disk. She whipped her gleaming blade from Limbo, the sword glittering in the faint light.

The squat figure hissed, a sharp intake of breath. "Illyana Nikolievna Rasputin!" he said. "How old are you now?"

"What?" Illyana said, the sudden shock of hearing her full name from the stranger leaving her numb. "Who are you?"

He chuckled. "Something like a great uncle, perhaps," he said with a twisted grin. "Your grandfather would be proud of the fine figure you've grown into."

"That's it," she said harshly, and she flared a stepping disk around him to carry him to Limbo.

He didn't move, but he did shake his head slightly.

"You have no place protecting old women," he said. "You should join forces with me. It would be like the glory days."

"The glory days?" she said dubiously. Her knees were shaking.

"Yes," Octavius sighed. "When the Red Skull was rising to ascendance, when the earth faced a thousand years of darkness, when monsters tore the Allies." He sighed with nostalgia.

"Look, bub," Illyana said tightly, "I'm a scion of the Sorcerer Supreme and we're going to deal with this right here, right now." She squared off, gripping the sword with both hands.

"You should see reason," he replied softly, "or I'll tell your grandfather you've been misbehaving."

"Who is my grandfather?" Illyana demanded. "Dammit, answer me!"

He had already faded back into the shadows. Illyana snarled frustration, then whipped through a stepping disk and dropped to her knees by her scrying pool.

"Gone," she whispered as images almost formed then failed to. "Dammit!" She slammed her fist on the rock by the pool.


	5. Fighting Words

**xXx**

"Right," the scrawny man said. He smiled, the loose skin on his face creasing in familiar lines. "So you'll have a unity candle by Saturday."

"Shouldn't be a problem, Reverend Pulchester," Peter said with a nod.

"Do you have strong feelings about the vows?" Mary Jane asked, leaning forward in the creaky chair before the big desk in the church office.

"Well, here's the traditional vows," the reverend said. He sat up straight, clearing his throat as he picked up a sheet of paper. "Here we go. 'I, and your name, take you, and his name, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to obey, till death do us part.' Then when the rings are exchanged, you'd say 'With this ring, I thee wed.' Something along those lines. But some couples do make their vows up these days."

"Not so keen on the 'obey' part," Mary Jane said, wrinkling her nose. "Hey Peter, let's do our own vows."

"Okay," he said slowly.

"Well, that gives me enough to go on," Reverend Pulchester said with a sigh. "You can give me your vows at the rehearsal tomorrow. You have my home number and my pager number in case you need to reach me. I'll see you tomorrow at six thirty."

"You got it," Peter said, rising. Mary Jane stood with him.

"Thanks for pinch hitting for us," she said with a faint blush.

"Not a problem," the reverend replied with another smile. "You kids be careful."

Peter and Mary Jane stepped out of the office, out the door, down the steps, around the corner. As the reverend busied himself with his paperwork, he utterly failed to notice the strange wash of dark light that bathed the parking lot for a moment as Peter and Mary Jane fell right out of reality.

"What. The. Hell," Mary Jane said, standing rigid as she glanced around in the wake of the light.

"Where are we?" Peter asked Illyana. They stood on a cobbled path, surrounded by thick ranks of greenery. The air was warm, stirred by a cool breeze. Above, an indigo vault of a sky was bedewed with glimmering stars.

Illyana was squatted down in a courtyard, staring into a pool. Horns grew from her head, her legs were twisted and goatish ending in cloven hooves. She frantically gestured at them to approach.

"Peter!" she said. "I was reading, and when I looked up this slime had already gotten into the house. He knocked on the front door, your aunt let him in."

"Who is it?" Peter asked as his blood froze.

"It's the guy, _him_, the guy who goes through walls," Illyana said impatiently. "I didn't dare break it up in case it got violent. He seems peaceful enough now."

"Right," Peter said, his jaw set. "Just drop me by the front door. As soon as I've led him off, get Aunt May out of the area one way or another."

"I'll back you up," she said. "If things go downhill, I'll do my best to save the situation."

"Enough talk," Peter said, squaring his shoulders. "That's my aunt. Let's go."

Aunt May answered the doorbell, and a smile spread across her face like a sunrise when she saw Peter.

"Hi, Aunt May, anything going on?" Peter said with a winning smile.

"Oh," she said. "I have a visitor, he wanted to see if I had any information on your grandfather Forrest."

"Really!" Peter said, walking into the house with a smile. "Well hello there, how nice of you to take an interest," he said, his voice as friendly as he could make it through gritted teeth as his eyes glittered with concealed rage. Shivers ran up and down Peter's skin; the creature before him was no longer a man, and the spider ghost knew it.

"Hello," the visitor said in his deep voice. His accent was unplaceable European. "I am Doctor Otto Octavius. I am a historian. My father knew Forrest Parker during the war. I'm compiling my father's memoirs now. I thought perhaps you all would have something like a box in the attic that might have memories of him."

Octavius was squatly built, with slightly bowed legs and long arms. His wrists were almost as thick as his forearms, and his fingers were square and stubby. His wide face seemed tainted by a permanent sneer. He wore thick horn rimmed glasses that were printed and rimed with dust. That was all obvious.

Peter sensed that he did not breathe. That his clammy skin was hard and dead. Some dark and vicious energy twisted and coiled in him. Peter's heart pounded. This couldn't turn into a fight. Not here. Not with Aunt May close enough to be killed by a stray blow.

"Tell you what," Peter said, "Uncle Ben did get a box like that. Forrest shipped it off and then got killed in the war. When I moved out I accidentally took it with me. Would you like to come over to my place and we could go through it together?"

"Excellent," Octavius said, rising. A smile squirmed across his features. "Perhaps we can chat about your memories later," he said, leaning towards Aunt May. Her hand fluttered up to her chest and she smiled at him, backing away slightly. She flicked a worried glance at Peter, who beamed obliviously.

"Let's go," Peter said. "Boy, it's a good thing I dropped in!"

"I am a lucky man," Octavius replied through his sickly smile. "Always have been."

"See you, Aunt May," Peter said as he led Octavius out into the night.

"Take care, Peter," she called after him.

Then the door shut, and she was on her own.

She let out a deep sigh, then slumped on the couch rubbing at her eyes and wondering why she felt such nervousness.

Then she tensed as she heard a strange hissing sort of noise from the dining room. She got up and reluctantly headed towards the kitchen. Picking up a broom, she took a few steps towards the dark doorway of the dining room.

All she saw was the gesture of a steel-clad hand, and she slumped into sleep. Before she hit the ground a stepping disk whirled up around her.

Illyana's disk whirled, depositing her in Limbo. She arranged Aunt May on a slab, then returned to the scrying pool. "What'd I miss?"

"Come on, Peter," Mary Jane said, her eyes full of worry.

"What's this all about," Peter demanded, clenching his fists as he walked a good arm's length from Octavius.

"To me," Octavius said, "it was two weeks ago when Forrest Parker embedded me in concrete." He sighed the contented sigh of a happy man. "Fate has awoken me for my revenge. I will kill May Parker. I will kill Mary Watson. Before I am finished, I will re-awaken the seed of pure evil that will cause Illyana Rasputin to bloom into the dark orchid she was destined to be. Perhaps I will allow her to be my consort. And, incidentally, once your women are slain I'll kill you out of courtesy."

Peter had already stopped. He faced Octavius as wind whirled down the street.

"I will stop you," Peter said calmly.

"Ah yes, the darkstone experiment," Octavius chuckled. "I knew Forrest had tampered with it, but little did I guess he would try to keep it for his family. No no, I worked on that project, headed it up actually. It was my idea to use animal intermediaries. I don't know what animal the darkstone was with before you were gifted, but I imagine I can guess from the fight we're about to have."

"You tested it on yourself," Peter said.

"Of course," Octavius said condescendingly. "Now I'm going to hurt you badly, thrash you a bit, maybe break your limbs. I will allow you to live until all your women are dead."

"You ever think you might have the wrong guy?" Peter said. "Forrest Parker was a double agent in Germany."

"Too true, too true," Octavius nodded. "But as an agent of the Red Skull he agreed to come here to the United States with me, to fight and kill Captain America. I discovered that he was a double agent by examining his belongings while he was out, so I was prepared to kill them both. He was only a mortal, after all."

"Doesn't seem that it worked out for you," Peter noted.

Octavius shrugged. "They bound me in cables," he said. "My powers were not yet complete. Two inch thick cables bound me and they plunged me into a vast block of cement. I could not free myself in time, and then I went into a long twilight of lifelessness."

"What woke you up?"

"Fate," Octavius replied. "My prison became my weapon. You know, there is an animal that can regenerate, that can change colors, that has incredible patience and stealth."

"There are a lot of animals like that," Peter said.

"But as I was wrapped in the cables in the concrete, I realized that I had not tapped the full potential of the creature that bit me." His smile twisted his ugly face again. "Let us see what your host has brought you."

There was an odd ripping sound, and Peter reflexively sprang back fifteen feet. He stared in shock as a steel cable, two inches thick and frayed on the end, tore out of the back of Octavius's suit and snaked up into the air, wavering as though testing it.

"It doesn't matter what you are," Peter said evenly. "You've threatened my people. You're not getting out of this in one piece."

Octavius roared laughter as his torso flesh and suit shredded, and three more cables squirmed free. Each was nearly thirty feet long, and the frayed ends flexed and twitched like hands.

Peter was pale, his jaw set, his spider ghost playing over the thing that faced him. The cables whirled and snapped like living things, and they had a hypnotic coordination. At the center, Octavius was distracting all by himself. Peter wiped his palms on his jeans.

"You cannot win, Parker," Octavius said simply. "Once I was gifted with the power of the darkstone, a vampire on our research team immortalized me so that my genius could live on and on through time. Ah, Necra, beautiful Necra. I shall find her in this time and see what she remembers of the age I have slept through."

"Necra the vampire, huh," Peter said. "She's dead. I saw to it myself."

Octavius fixed him with a cold glare. "No matter," he said stiffly. "I've reasons enough to see your guts strewn about. Shall we begin?"

Peter sprang towards him, low to the ground and cautious. A cable whipped at him with the velocity of a bullet from the side, and Peter twirled away from it in time to catch a singing cable on the shoulder. He bounded up and twisted, over the third cable that rushed at his knees with enough force to bust them wide open. He landed in a roll, bounding clear, but he slapped a cable aside and stumbled back as Octavius pressed the advantage, sending three cables whizzing down through the air with a peculiar metallic whistle.

Curling to the side, Peter flexed in a powerful leap that moved him out of Octavius's startling range. Web spat from his forearms, carrying him away from the cables. He dared a glance back over his shoulder and saw Octavius, oddly poised, the center of four cables that scurried over building rooftops and sprang with disturbing coordination as though they were his legs.

"Octopus," Peter grunted. "Gotta be."

"Why does Peter do that!" Mary Jane said frantically, gesturing at the scrying pool. "Why did he bait that guy?" She turned to Illyana. "Can't you teleport the cable guy here?"

"No," Illyana said, watching the chase intently. "I can't get him off Prime. As long as he has at least one limb on the ground he's grounded in a way I don't fully understand. And you've seen that I can't scry on him directly."

"So are you going to go help Peter out, or what?" Mary Jane demanded.

"I'm going to let Peter take his shot," Illyana said. "If he gets in trouble, I'll pull him out. If both of us engage, there's no backup. Besides. Peter wanted to tackle this guy." She looked over at Mary Jane. "You're going to have to learn martial arts," she said quietly. "Peter Parker doesn't need victims around him. You want to take some lessons?"

"Yeah," Mary Jane said, her eyes fixed on Peter as he swung into a construction site. "I think that's a good idea."

Peter swung wide, the web strand hitting a girder and swinging him around the way he came with great force. He slung at Octavius feet first, counting on the element of surprise.

A whirling cable slammed into his ankles; Peter felt something crack as he bit back a scream. He was through the arms and spinning with the force of the hit to his ankles, he used the momentum as a wind-up and he unloaded a punch to Octavius's torso, hitting him full force. Octavius doubled up with a grunt as Peter writhed aside; the frayed head of a cable whistled down through where his spine had been a moment before and a cable smacked the back of his head.

Peter felt himself pinwheeling through space for a moment, disoriented; things seemed to slow down as he tumbled out of control. Then a rasping buzzing friction got his attention as an arm whirled at him from a totally unexpected direction and wrapped around his waist.

The cable acted and felt alive, and it squirmed around him two, three times. Peter dimly realized he was about to be squeezed nearly in half; Octavius would leave him alive and unable to walk.

Octavius cackled a laugh as one of his cables touched a girder, one wrapped around Peter, and the other two hovered over him as though choosing the choicest spots to plunge through his flesh and tear him to shreds.


	6. Multitask

"Get him out of there," Mary Jane managed, breathless with terror. "Illyana!"

"Can't," Illyana said, her eyes hard. "He's grounded. I'm going in." A stepping disk flashed up around her, and Mary Jane fell to her knees, riveted to the view in the scrying pool.

The Soulsword was already whistling down in a mighty swing as the stepping disk deposited Illyana in the middle of the battle. The blade sheared through the cable with a snick, freeing Peter. Peter crashed to the ground and feebly pushed at the cable that was wrapped around his waist, now cut off from the source of its animation.

Illyana squared off with Octavius. "Okay," she said. "You say you know my grandfather. Whatever. You have these ideas about who I am. Fine. Doesn't matter. I'm going to stop you right here." She raised her sword, gripping it in both hands. Letting him make the first move.

"I can feel it in your soul," Octavius said, his face unreadable and his eyes hidden behind the dusty glasses. "The power. And the evil."

"I faced the evil inside me," Illyana said. "It almost destroyed me, but I rose above it. I've been through that, and from now on I am one of the good guys. You missed your chance, Octavius. You should have come last year." He paused, uncertain. She flexed her grip and narrowed her eyes.

"Unclean thing, your death is at hand," she intoned in her best wizard voice.

Two limbs hissed at her; her amulet flared, and one of the cables recoiled from a flash of light as her sword swept out to meet the other, shearing off the frayed end of the cable.

Her eyes glinted with malice as she spun with the sword, backing him off for a moment, then she charged with the blade brandished before her. Nothing could stand before her.

A cable snaked around and caught at her hoof, the finger-long spears of cable strand digging into her fetlock and arresting her progress. She screamed and skidded to a halt, awkward on one hoof. Spinning, she slashed at the cable and severed several feet of it.

She kicked with her punctured hoof to free it of the length of cable, and as she faced Octavius again he jabbed—

The bristled cable punched lightly at her face, and she didn't manage to twist out of the way. The cable smacked into her face, spines of steel punching through her eyeball and eye socket, rocking her head back on her neck as it cracked her skull. She unleashed a scream as she toppled to the ground, the blooded cable hovering over her. She clutched her face as blood poured out between her fingers.

"I'll take that," Octavius said, picking up her soulsword. Then he sputtered as thick web slapped across his face.

He raked at it with his fingers, and when he could see again he glanced around to note Peter Parker, carrying Illyana, swinging up into the air. A stepping disk claimed them both.

"Very well," Octavius said with a shrug as his cables wound around the hissing soulsword. "Tomorrow we finish this." His smile was unsettling as he vanished into the shadows.

**xXx**

Illyana unsteadily gasped with pain as she sprawled on the cobbles of Limbo. Her hands were pushed against her face. Peter wobbled, then wisely chose to sat down. Mary Jane kept her distance, shocked by all she had seen.

"I'm the world mage," Illyana whispered as she pressed her hands against her mutilated face and eye. "I can heal anything here. Come on. Come on." A whine of pain was in her breath as she quivered, otherwise motionless.

"Is she going to be okay?" Mary Jane asked, fear in her eyes.

"You were watching?" Peter asked in return.

"I was," Mary Jane said. "I'm so glad I never got to watch your other fights."

"Maybe you just don't need to see what's going on," Peter said. "It is dangerous."

"Obviously," Mary Jane said, nodding at Illyana.

Illyana took a deep, shuddering breath. Then she sat up, lowering her gory hands from her face.

She had two eyes, though one of them was thoroughly bloodshot. The punctures in her face were already sealing. Illyana managed a painful smile. "Okay," she said. "Okay, that's better."

Peter let out a sigh of relief. "Not to say you wouldn't look good in an eyepatch, but damn."

"My sword," Illyana murmured, her smile vanishing. "He got my sword. It's tucked into his network." Her jaw tightened. "Awright, dammit, this guy is going _down_. Tomorrow." She looked Peter in the eye. "It's time to bring in some outside help. Strange or Valeria. This guy warrants it."

"Maybe so," Peter said fiercely, "but I want to do this. Strange and Valeria aren't always going to be there. If I'm going to get married and bring Mary Jane into this," he said with a gesture, "I need to be able to protect her."

"You're not cutting me out of this," Illyana said sternly. "One, because you're not suicidal. Two, because he keeps spouting off about my grandfather. I never knew my grandfather, but this creep is taunting me and I'm going to get to the bottom of it. Failing that, I'll just settle for shutting his fat mouth."

"Right," Peter said, a glint in his eye. "You and me. Crossing the generation gap to kick his ropy butt."

"Deal," Illyana said with a nod.

There was a quiet moment. Mary Jane cleared her throat.

"Well, with that out of the way, can we go home?" she asked.

"Right. Sorry," Illyana said. "See you guys tomorrow." She gestured, and a stepping disk carried Mary Jane and Peter to Mary Jane's apartment.

"Okay," Mary Jane said as they landed in her living room. "Not to deflate your berserk machismo, but what the hell are you thinking? Let Tandy and Tyrone and Strange and this Valeria person and anybody else that wants in on it go take this freak show out. Let Strange snap his fingers and make it all go away. Why do you think you have to do this? Can't you save your next death-defying solo act for after we've been married a week or two?" Her eyes flashed with anger, her face was pale, her breathing fast. Her nails printed half-moons on the flesh of her hands, her fists were so tight.

"You were watching," Peter said. "He plans to kill Aunt May, you, everybody close to me. Then after I've been crippled, he'll kill me. I don't want to trust his defeat to other hands. I mean, Strange is awesome and all. But Tandy and Tyrone were both caught up in something he thought he dealt with in January. No," he said with a shake of his head. "I need to be involved. I need to make sure this ends. And he's not human. He's not alive. I've got to kill it for good if I can. I don't believe in killing," he said quietly, "but if they're vampires then it's different, isn't it."

"Vampires with cable whips that seem more than capable of handing you your ass, Peter," Mary Jane said in a hushed voice. She shook her head. "Maybe all your fights go like that. I don't want to know if that's true. But you seemed a hair's breadth from maiming pretty much the whole fight."

"Sometimes it takes me a few minutes to figure out the style," Peter said uncomfortably.

"You may not get the time," Mary Jane replied.

Peter closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. He opened his eyes.

"Mary Jane," he said evenly, "this is something I've got to do."

She looked into his eyes, then shrugged. "You gotta do what you gotta do, Parker," she said with a small sigh. "Nail him. Whatever. But that doesn't get you out of tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow… morning…" Peter said, his mind working. "Your parents get in at the airport," he said as realization dawned. "That's great. Look, I gotta find Octavius. I can catch up at the rehearsal dinner, right? I need to hunt Octavius during the day. That's when he'll be vulnerable."

"No," Mary Jane said simply. "One of the things you gotta do is go with me to meet my parents. For God's sake, Peter, we're getting married the day after tomorrow and they've never even met you. And not for lack of trying, either. Things are tense enough without you ditching them again now. You need to take a shot at Octavius. Believe me, I understand the need for him to take a fall. But you're getting married to me, too. And I require you to come with me to pick up my parents and spend a little time with them. If you won't bring in outside help, then you'll just have to work around your schedule."

Peter thought that over. "You're right," he sighed. "You're totally right. I'm not always going to be able to drop everything and handle these little threats. I really do need to meet the family, get this stuff ready to go. Illyana can search better than I can anyway."

"Good," Mary Jane said, softening. "I just want to get married, Peter," she said quietly. She tried on a smile. "Just that."

"I know," Peter said, pulling her into a gentle embrace. "Me too. Um… not to interrupt the mood, but do you think you could tape up my ankle?"

"Sure. Right this way, Danger Butt," she said, leading him to the bed.

"We prefer 'spider ghost' if you don't mind," Peter said loftily. He stripped to his underwear, and her eyes lingered over every bruise, every torn contusion, every welt, every gash, every splinter lodged in his skin. She shook her head.

"Peter Parker," she said, "You're a mess. You look like you were in an avalanche."

"He's not gentle," Peter agreed as he lay down. "You know," he added as she put rubbing alcohol on a cotton swab, "this is the best time for this to happen. If I can somehow get this sorted out, then I'll know I've reached some kind of balance. I'll know what I can handle."

"Handle this," she said playfully, bopping him with a pillow.

"Oh God," he said, flinching and recoiling.

"Peter!" she said, discarding the pillow. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't think—"

He rolled over, pulling her into a close embrace and immediately overpowering her. "Hah. Gotcha," he said. "Now, had it been a _feather _pillow…"

"You want first aid or not," she grinned.

"Let me think it over," he replied, looking into her eyes as they breathed each other's air.

**xXx**

With the rattling clang and clatter of carelessly manipulated cables, the wearied Octavius returned to the loft. The Owl was waiting for him, pacing back and forth.

"How did it go?" the Owl asked.

"I thrashed Parker and Rasputin's whelps," Octavius said gleefully as he rubbed his hands together. The cables began retracting into his torso.

"How do you know Rathputin's granddaughter if you were defeated in the forties?" the Owl asked.

"You have had too much time on your hands to think things over," Octavius said jovially. "Rasputin was a seer, a prophet. He looked into his own future and he saw his bloodline, he saw a granddaughter that would grow great in sorcery and be tainted with evil. He told me of her when I became a vampire, so I would be watchful."

"Ah," the Owl said with a sage nod.

"Did you get me food?" Octavius asked sternly. The Owl smiled, and led him to the other end of the loft. He opened a door and dragged out three bodybags. One of them began to feebly twitch, and a low moan came from within.

With a satisfied smile, Octavius extended his cables again, and plunged one into each bag. The victims twitched, gasped; one managed a scream. Then the cables kinked and squirmed as they drained blood from their victims.

"Better," Octavius said with a satisfied smile.

"I got you a gift," the Owl said.

Octavius arched an eyebrow. "What sort of gift?" he asked as his cables slowly retracted from the lumpy flatness of the bodybags.

"I brought you a friend of Peter Parker. Tomorrow, if you threaten the girl Parker will give up."

Octavius followed the Owl into the small room, and he looked at the young woman tied to the chair, her hair falling over her face.

"Her name is Gwen Thtathy," the Owl said, "and it would make me feel warm if her killing came upon her."

"That's arranged easily enough," Octavius said with a cruel smile. "I will take her with me. It is time to prepare for tomorrow night…"


	7. Parents

_Friday, October 31. Halloween._

Dawn changed the city from a galaxy of light to planes and angles of reflected sun. Illyana watched through her scrying pool. As soon as sun lay across the waters and illuminated the maze of steel and concrete, Illyana focused on her soul sword.

As Octavius's consciousness ebbed with the coming of the dawn, his network loosened its grip enough for Illyana to find her blade. With an imperious gesture she pulled it from its obfuscated surroundings and gripped the weapon once again. While the surroundings were concealed from her scry, her Soul Sword was a part of her very spirit, and it could not be easily kept from her.

"So far so good," she said, letting the scry fade to black and she twirled the blade once, then rested her forehead on it in relief.

She angled her head, listening, then she gestured. A portal opened beside her, and Strange stepped through.

"I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?" he asked.

"Not at all," she said. "I'm just keeping an eye on Parker and his wedding efforts. I'm the wedding coordinator," she added.

Strange nodded. "That's fine. I'm glad you are a part of their efforts. I came because I'm going to be out of town for a few days. Out of touch. You will not be able to find me by scrying, I'll be a bit further afield. I don't want you to be concerned. I should be back by Monday at the latest."

"What's your plan?" Illyana asked, a bit concerned.

"I have a trap laid to get Mordred," Strange said, "and I've got to be ready when he falls into it. I don't think it will take him long to go after my bait."

"So you're going to be all mysterious," Illyana said wryly. "I suppose that's your right."

"Indeed," Strange said with a small nod. "Keep everything together while I'm gone. I am more cautious this time. Hopefully I won't require a rescue." He smiled briefly.

"Go get him, Strange," Illyana said seriously.

He nodded, and stepped out of her world.

With a deep sigh, she plodded up to her throne and sat. She wondered why she hadn't told him about Octavius.

Then she shivered. Might have something to do with the bad seed, the family tree… she shook her head. Strange didn't need to know about this until she had it all figured out.

"I'm running out of time," she murmured.

Standing, she approached her scrying pool. "Okay, Octavius. Where are you hiding?"

**xXx**

"How's my hair?" Mary Jane asked nervously.

"Your parents have seen you before," Peter said, somewhat on edge. "They know you're beautiful. Relax."

"Right," Mary Jane said. "Relax."

The pair walked into the airport terminal, packed with travelers. Mary Jane held on to Peter's belt as he swiftly navigated the crowd, checked the flight's arrival time, and maneuvered over to the gate where they'd be getting off.

Conversation was impossible, so they waited until the passengers started leaving the plane, walking up the tube into the terminal.

"They're going to be close to the end," Mary Jane said. "Dad hates standing in lines. There's a certain way things are done."

Peter steeled himself and waited stoically.

He didn't need to be told when Mary Jane's parents came up the ramp. Her father had sleepy eyes and an enormous paunch, thick hair on his neck, a jaunty hat on his head and a plaid jacket. Her mother had a pinched and worried face, painfully thin, a scarf tied over her head and sunglasses that were too big for her. But each one echoed Mary Jane. Peter drew in a breath and let it out.

"Showtime," he muttered.

"That's them!" Mary Jane said, pointing. They headed over.

"I'm just saying," her father said, "for what an airline ticket costs they could spring for some peanuts. Hello, darling," he said to Mary Jane, pulling her into a hug. "Would this be the lucky groom?" he added, his voice flat as he stared at Peter. Mary Jane nodded, putting a bright face on it.

"At least you're not gay," her father said to Mary Jane with a shrug. He turned to Peter. "I'm Alonzo Watson, this is my wife Angela, pleased to meet you," he said deliberately as he extended his meaty hand. Peter shook his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you too," he said as warmly as he could. "I'm Peter."

"Enough of this lollygagging around, let's get the luggage and get out of here. I hate airports. All the sickness and disease. It can travel around the country with the speed of jets now, a cold can break out in New York and we have it in Texas by the end of the day. It's very sad. I hope you won't mind carrying our bags," he said to Peter as they reached the luggage carousel.

"Not at all," Peter said, the smile fixed on his face.

"Oh, Angie," Alonzo said as they waited for the luggage. "Here ya go." He slipped her a folded ten dollar bill.

"What's that about?" Mary Jane asked, blinking.

"I figured your fiancé would stand us up at the airport, that's all," Alonzo said. "So glad you could make it, Parker. Mary Parker." He shook his head. "We want you to be happy, dear," he said.

"That must be your bag," Peter said in a voice that was supposed to be cheerful. A lumpy orange garment bag was slowly headed towards them on the carousel.

"Good eyes," Mary Jane's mother said with a nod.

"How do you know what our luggage looks like? For all you know it could be any of these pieces. That was a good guess, Parker. Do you make it a practice to look for other people's luggage?"

"Mary Jane has a matching overnight bag," Peter said evenly. "It's not a common color." He smiled at them as hard as he could.

"Very sharp," Mary Jane's mother confided to Alonzo. He snorted.

"You seem like a smart alec," he said. "I can't stand a smart alec."

"Me either," Peter said seriously. "Personally, I think they should all be stuck in cattle cars and shipped over the border." His face betrayed no pain as Mary Jane settled her weight on his foot.

"Mom, that's your bag," she said. "Great! Grab that and we're ready to go."

Peter hefted the bags and started threading through the crowd, his entourage in tow.

"I don't know what's going to be more fun," Peter muttered so only Mary Jane could hear him as they pushed through the crowd. "Tackling Octavius or going to the wedding rehearsal."

"Peter," Mary Jane breathed, "you will behave yourself or else. Don't make me finish the thought."

Peter sighed.

"Are you ready for lunch?" Peter asked as Mary Jane threaded the car through traffic, the airport far behind.

"Yes please," Mary Jane's mother said.

"Lunch sounds like a good idea, there's nothing like an airplane trip to dry you out and work up an appetite," her father added. "They don't give you enough oxygen on airplanes." It was quiet for a moment. "Where are we going to lunch?" he asked.

"Goldens," Peter said. "It's a buffet place. Unless you'd like some pizza."

"Thousands of restaurants in New York and that's what you pick," Alonzo said with a shake of his head. "Whaddya think, dear, pizza or cafeteria?"

"Pizza's good," she replied.

"Luckee's Pizza it is," Mary Jane said brightly. "We haven't been there together in almost two years!"

"Yeah, great, I'm overjoyed, hope they still have pizza," her father grumped.

The rest of the trip passed in awkward quiet. They arrived at the pizza place, went inside and took a booth.

"Do you think our bags will be safe in the trunk?" Alonzo asked. "Crime in New York is legendary."

"It'll be safe enough, dad," she replied.

"So Parker," Alonzo said, re-orienting. "What is it that you do for a living. My girl says you are a freelance photographer."

"Yes, for the Planetary," Peter said.

"What kind of pictures do you do? Planets?" he said, smiling blandly at his own joke.

"It's a popular science magazine," Peter said. "They do monthly themes, and I try to get pictures of what they're after."

"_Try_ to get pictures," Alonzo said. "Do you sometimes _not_ get pictures?"

"No, I do," Peter said. "I'm kind of looking around to see if that's what I want to do for the next few years. It's a good job, got me through college, and my boss is a great guy."

"Well that's important," Alonzo said with a condescending nod. "Is this something you can support a wife on? A kid?"

"Half pepperoni and half sausage looks good," Mary Jane said, intently studying the menu.

"Right," Peter said. "I'll go order. And I need to wash my hands. I'll be back," he said with a strained smile.

"Nice boy," Mary Jane's mother noted.

Her father snorted. "He could use a haircut and about ten pounds. Too scrawny. Is that the fashion these days, that jacket he was wearing? Mary honey, are you positive about this?" her father asked, concerned.

"Yes," she said firmly.

"Have you met his father?" her mother chimed in. "That's how you can tell what kind of man he'll turn out to be, just look at his father. He seems to be tense, dear. Did you think he seemed tense? It's just very strange that he hasn't wanted to meet us. And he has a limp. Why is he limping? Is he clumsy? Into sports? I hope he doesn't limp at the wedding."

Alonzo shook his head. "He has debt, doesn't he. He looks like he has debt. Seems downtrodden. When I married your mother, I didn't have debt. We didn't have much, but there weren't any credit cards then that brought us down. If you get married to him, I don't want our little girl having to go broke. Maybe you can do better. Have you looked around? Whassamatta? Hey, Mary, we're _talking_ to you, answer us, we're your parents."

"Look, I'm sorry," Mary Jane said, trying to hold her temper. "I chose Peter Parker."

"I hope you don't get sorrier," her father said in a blaze of witty rhetoric. Peter returned to the table.

"All set," he said.

"Good. I'm hungry," Alonzo said. "This place, are they slow? Fast? I hate it when they don't put enough toppings on. Remember the last time we were here? Barely any pepperoni."

Mary Jane leaned her head back and counted to ten.

Mary Jane and Peter rode in the car, finally alone together, in stony silence.

"Just couldn't let it go," Mary Jane said.

"He was nagging me about finances all through lunch," Peter said, his voice tight. "Sorry. It seemed like the thing to do at the time."

"You could have let him pay for lunch. That would have been a bright spot," Mary Jane said through tight lips.

"And ten years from now when we get together for Christmas he'd probably tell a story about how the first time he met me he had to pay for lunch. I felt I was going to have to pay one way or the other." He let out a deep sigh and ran his hands through his hair. "God. At least they live in Texas. How can you stand those people?"

"Look, Parker," she said in a hard voice, eyes riveted to the road. "You may not like them, but they are my parents. Alright? I know they aren't easy to live with. But I don't think I need to sit here and listen to you run them down. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," he said shortly.

Silence settled once more until they reached Peter's apartment. "You coming upstairs?" he asked quietly as Mary Jane parked the car.

"I suppose," she said. "For a minute. I can call and double check my manicure appointment at two."

"Good deal," Peter said with a nod. "I got a haircut about then. Seems wrong to pay twenty bucks for a haircut," he said as they got out of the car.

A minute later he let them into the apartment. He strolled over to the answering machine; a message.

Eep "Peter, this is Mr. Stacy. Urm… not sure how to ask this. Gwen didn't come home last night. I was wondering if maybe you knew where she is. It's just after noon now and I haven't seen her. It's okay if there's some batchlorette party or something, I just wasn't sure. If you could give me a call back I'd appreciate it." Eep

Peter and Mary Jane exchanged a worried look.

"No party?" Peter said.

"I have no idea where Gwen might be," Mary Jane said, nervous.

"I bet I know who does," Peter said, his voice hard. He picked up the phone, called Illyana's cell phone. "This is Peter. Scry for Gwen, she's missing. Get back to me as soon as possible." He slammed the phone down, scowling.

"I could search this city, take it apart top to bottom, and _still_ have no luck finding her," he said. "Tonight I've got to do something about Octavius before the wedding rehearsal. I simply don't have enough time to pull this off."

"Get a haircut," Mary Jane said. "And when you fight Octavius, tell him to leave your face alone. I do _not_ want to have to Photoshop our wedding pics. I've got to go get ready for the wedding. You go do your thing."

"Will do," Peter nodded, his eyes glinting with something beyond anger. "I might be a little late to the rehearsal."

"Peter, my love," Mary Jane said sincerely, "I understand."


	8. Showdown

**xXx**

Peter was headed for the subway when his senses picked up someone pursuing him. He turned to see Illyana shouldering through the afternoon crowd on the sidewalk. He waited for her.

"Parker!" she shouted. "I got your message. I found her."

"Let's go," Peter said, taking her elbow and guiding her into a coffee shop. They headed for a booth, then dark light flared and they were gone.

"There she is," Illyana said as her legs twisted to their goat shapes and horns unfurled from her forehead, a tail whipping behind her. The scrying pool rippled, and Peter saw Gwen.

Her face was dirty, she was crying and alarmed, confined in a close dark space.

"Get her out of there," Peter said breathlessly.

"Can't," Illyana said with a shrug. "I tried. She's tied into Octavius's network, so I can't pull her out even if he _is _asleep."

"It's about four thirty," Peter said, swiftly calculating. "Overcast day. We don't have much time before Octavius is on the move."

"Let's go," Illyana said as she grasped her sword.

"Hey," Peter said, hesitating. "Is that thing bigger than I remember it?"

Illyana smiled, a cold and vicious smile. "My power has grown," she said. "So has the symbol of it." The rune-traced blade was now a full two handed sword, nearly six feet long. She gripped it and swung it as though its weight simply provided additional power to her blows.

"What the hell," Peter said with a shrug. "It's Halloween, right?" He stepped behind one of the standing stones, and a few seconds later he came back around it. He tossed his clothes in a heap. He wore form fitting black mesh, smoothing over him and rendering him dark and sleek. Two pale eye spots covered his eyes in the black mask as he pulled it down over his face. "_Now_ let's go," he said.

The stepping disk flared.

The pair stood in full costume on the top of one of the bridge pylons for the George Washington Bridge, a feat of engineering majesty. The wind tunelessly crooned through the cables as the suspension bridge slowly swayed. Traffic flowed fifty feet below.

"Oh. Cables. A suspension bridge. Is anybody but me having a 'duh' moment here?" Peter asked no one in particular.

"Peter," Illyana said. "Gwen is nearby. I can't pinpoint it any closer than this, though."

"Right," Peter said. He relaxed, letting the spider ghost's senses unfurl around him. Illyana watched the light fade from the sky. She shifted her grip on her sword and slid down into an effortless crouch on her haunches, her tail fluttering in the chill wind that whipped over the bridge.

Time passed uncounted.

"Under the bridge," Peter said tersely. "Something is moving under the bridge. Sounds and feels like loose cables."

"Let's go," Illyana said, rising.

"Mind if I carry you?" Peter asked.

Illyana hesitated a moment, then shrugged. "Okay," she said.

Peter grasped her waist and vaulted off the top of the bridge. Illyana bit back a scream as her stomach lurched with the sickening drop of unsupported free-fall.

With a peculiar 'whizz' like tearing silk, Peter fired off a stream of web and turned their fall into a graceful arc that swooped them under the bridge to sail up towards its underside. He let go of the web as they drifted up with an odd sense of weightlessness. Slapping against the underside of the bridge, Peter hung by two fingers, lightly holding Illyana in the other hand.

"Hokay," Illyana said unsteadily. "Remind me to never, ever do that again."

Peter tossed her up at the underside of the girders. She caught on to one and scrabbled up to hunch in a nook. She glanced around, then froze as she saw the pudgy man slowly swaying, hanging from the underside of the bridge by a single cable.

"About time you kids joined the party," Octavius said, his voice slow and slurred. Peter could immediately tell Octavius wasn't fully awake yet. "Are you ready for another beating?"

"Oh yeah," Peter pattered. "I'm collecting the whole set of beatings from delusional and psychotic vampire scientists. Yours is Number Eighteen, right between Hyde and Renfield."

"Force his hand," Illyana hissed at Peter from her hiding place. "I won't go far." The stepping disk flared around her, and Peter was alone with Octavius, slowly swinging in the steady swirl of wind under the suspension bridge.

Octavius swung towards him with a pair of cables, and one shot towards Peter. Peter released the webline, dropping as he fired out another pair of webs. One slapped across a cable in a sticky blob, the other hit the edge of the bridge's underside. Peter swung away, tugging on Octavius, who simply whirled and snapped the restraining webline.

"You're like some kind of big dangly wire dust bunny," Peter said, snapping out another line and twirling away, firing a line at random and letting it go as cables sang through the air after him, seeking blood, still groggy in the twilight.

Octavius hopped and sprang after him, arms crossed over his chest, decidedly unamused as his four cable arms scrabbled and swooped his blocky body around under the bridge, trying to pace the maddened spider ghost. "Yes, that's it," he soothed. "Prance and dance and swing about. With each passing second I become stronger, faster. Can you say the same?"

"You're boring me," Peter snapped, letting his patience fray. "Quit talking a fight and come over here and make me hold still, you ridiculous rotting sack of self-important freakish also-ran has-been. If you know so much about the darkstone, just spank me and take the power back." He let himself flip with a flourish, firing out another line that tugged him just out of reach of the hissing cables. He noticed that Octavius had replaced his damaged cables with new ones after their fight the previous night.

"You will never again see the sun," Octavius shouted. "Tonight is my night! Tonight I will crush you, I will slay your women, I will destroy your place in history and then you will beg me to finish you! And I shall, for I am generous. Or perhaps I will make you immortal and crippled, that I may enjoy your torment for an eternity of night that shall spread across the globe as I once again serve the forces of corruption that will drink the civilization of man in a single screaming drought."

"Hoo, a _delusional_ ex-Nazi traitor," Peter pattered. "Dude, those glasses have _got_ to go. Check these moves out."  
He snapped a webline into the bridge over Octavius's head. The cables reflectively snatched at it, and the sudden force plucked Peter out of the air and flung him at Octavius. As Peter flew at him, his world was reduced to sensing cables; the water far below glittered with the sheen of light that lay across it from the city that was never truly dark, and above cars roared past oblivious, the wind strummed the harp of the bridge; Peter felt himself oddly at peace and at once fully present and absent as the screaming cables slashed through the air lusting for his blood.

He slapped one to the side, curling along it and tucking his legs up as another fired through where his knees had been. As though the moves had been choreographed, he spun in the air and took only a glancing hit from the cable that had missed and yanked itself in close, pushing through air instead of the small of his back.

As he flipped upside down, he slapped his feet onto the underside of the bridge and contracted his torso, his head whipping forward with the entire force of his leap, with all the muscular tensile strength the canny spider ghost could command.

With a resounding crack, his forehead slammed into Octavius's face, smashing into his horn-rimmed glasses and snapping them at the bridge, embedding glass in Octavius's flesh. Peter rebounded, bending up backwards and firing webs in two directions. As the cables flailed at him awkwardly, he managed to twist around them and use his leaning momentum to control the elasticity of the webs, sliding clear in an oblique path. He flipped in midair, fired out another webline, and was out of Octavius's range in a smooth whirling glide.

"What?" he said as he whooshed back through the air. "I missed that gloating. Speak up." He slapped against the pylon, the soles of his feet adhering to it as he rested his shoulderblades against the chill concrete. His eyes narrowed. "Welcome to my century, you son of a bitch."

A certain restraint fell away in Peter's chest. He felt a chilly rage race through his veins, a certainty that he was fully capable of killing the thing that hung beneath the bridge. Something ancient and dark that resided in the marrow of his bones, in the depths of his inhuman instinct, felt itself given free rein. This thing did not live. It could not be killed.

But it could be stopped.

Peter let Octavius feel his smile.

The vampire swung gently in the breeze, hanging by a pair of cables. His face oozed as bits of thick glass were pushed out of it by his healing flesh. One eye was torn, the eyeball punctured by chunks of lens. Octavius let a sneer dig lines in his visage as he regarded the bit of bone, meat, and skin that taunted him.

"I will kill you, Parker," he hissed. "Fate will not be denied."

"Maybe it's Parker fate to keep kicking your sorry ass," Peter snapped back. And the weblines were out. He whirled back towards Octavius. "We can't both be right. Bring it on."

Peter snapped out a glob of web that slopped across one of the frayed cable ends. As Octavius swung, the cable's frayed end was too gooped to grasp the underside of the bridge, so another cable took over. Peter fired out a few more wads, but Octavius was wise to his tactic, and the cables thrashed and twirled, providing Octavius with an odd balance that kept him swinging round and about under the bridge, unpredictable. Peter stayed well out of the way.

"How much web? Before you tire?" Octavius snarled maliciously.

Peter was closing again, snapping a webline up under the bridge that was too long so he dropped and was tugged back up by the elastic web, hanging weightless for a moment as his wrists lined up on his enemy.

Three cables slashed at him, wriggling with a vicious and limited intelligence of their own. Peter's hands reflexively snatched the cable and reached for another, curling into a ball as he smashed them together, their frayed ends frantically twisting. Thick web shot from his spinerettes, his forearms flexing with the unnatural force of the spat web. His leg shot out like a piston, catching Octavius in the bridge of the nose. The impact of the kick fired Peter clear, and he twirled and slapped at cable as he fell out of range. Web shot up and pulled him into a trajectory that let him slap against the side of another pylon.

"You are quick," Octavius growled, almost to himself. "I tire of chasing you. Your feeble blows cannot stop me. You cannot even begin to understand what I am. Surrender to me or I will destroy you."

"Or how about you quit posturing and actually do some fighting?" Peter said, trying not to sound out of breath. "Sooner or later I'm going to bash that ugly face right in and you'll have to reach into your head to wipe your nose."

Octavius pulled himself up so his hands slapped palm first against the underside of the bridge. His good eye rolled back in his head as his lips twitched in a paroxysm of effort. Peter felt a ripple pass through the bridge, then the pylon across the way from him quivered. A chunk fell out of it, and two cables lowered from it. They held Gwen, unconscious and grimy and slightly bloodied. One cable wrapped around her chest, the other around her head. Octavius leered at Peter.

"Well then," he said brightly. "Isn't this a surprise!" He thoughtfully regarded Gwen's limp body. "I was going to put her on the list of Parker women to slaughter, but I thought she might be a useful spectator to our little game of tag. Do you think I should crush her ribs, or her head, or just twist her head right off?"

Peter said nothing, watchful as rage seethed through him like a swarm of wasps. "Understand me," he said. "You have the power to kill this girl, and you can make me watch. But if you do, there is nothing on this world or any other that will stop me from holding your heart in my hand." He glanced around for Illyana. This was as forced as he could make Octavius's hand. He suddenly realized how grateful he was that in this moment he was not alone.

Right on time, Illyana's disk flared and dropped her, sword swiftly chopping. She mightily whacked the sword through the two cables that held Gwen; by the time Octavius realized she was present and sent the killing command through the cables they were severed.

Peter tucked into a somersault and kicked off the bottom of the bridge, firing himself down pushing against gravity as he slid through the air after Gwen. She fell, heavy cable still wrapped around her unconscious form. Peter heard the clattering bang of cables on girders as Octavius raced after him, but he filtered that out. Only one thing mattered. Only catching Gwen in time to fire a webline.

He knew it was already too late. He was not capable of giving up. Flexing his web sacs as hard as he could, he fired out a thin stream of webbing that tapped Gwen. He reeled her in as best he could as the vast, dizzying expanse of light-dappled waves rushed closer.

He touched her as a stepping disk flared. He barely registered Limbo flashing past as another disk flared and he found himself falling out over the river, fifty feet or so from the bridge and a hundred feet off the surface of the water. He caught Gwen easily and fired web out, adjusting their trajectory to whirl over to the bridge.

Octavius screeched rage as the stepping disk robbed him of his prey.

"Unclean thing," Illyana snapped coldly. "Your business is with _me._" Her gray cloak swirled around her goat legs where she perched on the broken hole in the pylon where Gwen had been concealed. The square amulet at her throat gleamed, and she leveled the two handed soulsword at Octavius in a single menacing gesture. "You want to tell me about my grandfather now?" she said imperiously.

"Why the coy act?" Octavius snapped impatiently. "You are drenched in the stink of Belasco, Rasputin's demon master. Why do you pretend you do not know what is going on?" He hissed frustration, and his cables all tensed at once.

Illyana reflexively pulled back into the hollow, but it was already too late. Octavius sprang. Her amulet blazed out at him, burning through his vampiric energy as he slammed against the pylon. Cables whirled and snapped and blasted chunks of concrete and steel out of the way as one cable writhed into Illyana's space, intent on pinning and crushing her.

She whipped the sword around, taking one cable off mere feet from Octavius's belly, and she shouted "Cttrock bandalia!" as a flare of red energy spun into existence around her as a screen. Octavius braced himself with his sturdy legs as his cables whipped around her mystic defense.

"Seconds," he sneered, his remaining eye livid. "You have _seconds._" His cables began squeezing into the defense as Illyana's knees bent, her hand thrust out and her head bowed as the barrier began to buckle.

Peter's hands fired into Octavius's back, sinking into his flesh and curling fingertips around his shoulderblades. Peter kicked off the underside of the bridge as he gripped Octavius. Startled, the vampire had no time to disentangle his cables, and only one held him on the bridge. As he whirled out of the way, Peter yanked his bloody hands free and he snatched the cable, tugging it off the girder with his incredible strength.

"Clear!" he shouted as Octavius flailed with one of his cables, relaxing the others. Octavius realized what was happening just in time to make eye contact with the demon sorcereress as she thrust her mystic blade through her defense, past his cables, and right through his withered heart.

The scream that burst from his throat could not have come from a living being. As the cables writhed clear and twirled in confusion, Illyana kicked off his chest with her goat hooves, tearing her blade clear and pushing up into the air and through the hissing mass of suddenly stupid cables.

Seconds later, her fall dropped her into a stepping disk as Octavius slammed against the river's surface with shattering impact.

Peter watched as the surface grew still again. A slow smile curled across his face.

By the time Peter got to where he had left Gwen laying on the service walkway of the bridge, Illyana was kneeling over her and checking her breath and pulse. She looked up, her red eyes dimly gleaming in the dark.

"She'll be fine," Illyana said. Peter breathed out a sigh of relief. Illyana stood up, and for a moment they regarded each other.

Peter held his hand up, and Illyana slapped it. "You _rock_," she said.

"Oh no, girlfriend, _you_ rock," Peter said with a weary grin.

"No no," Illyana said as she leaned against the railing. "_You_ rock, web-head."

"Okay," Peter said. "I rock. Now let's get to the wedding rehearsal that starts in five minutes."

"Five minutes?" Illyana said. "Damn we're good."

Peter chuckled, glancing down at his mesh. "I gotta change," he said. He shook his head. "Happy Halloween."


	9. Vows Delivered

**xXx**

"So that's pretty much it," Reverend Pulchester said, blinking his rheumy eyes at Peter and Mary Jane. "You're sure you can explain it all to Gwen?" he asked.

"You bet," Mary Jane nodded. "We've made it as simple as possible."

He nodded. "I sure hope she gets to feeling better. That just leaves one more thing," he said, leaning in close to them. "Your vows. Do you have them written?"

"Almost done," Peter said with a sheepish smile. "I'll get them to you tomorrow, promise."

"Me too," Mary Jane echoed with a disarming bat of her eyelashes.

"Okay," the reverend shrugged. "See to it that you do. Well, we're done here."

"Thanks," Mary Jane said. "Are you available to come to the rehearsal dinner with us?" she asked.

"I'm afraid not," he said. He sighed. "My wife needs help handing out candy to children. I'm late."

"Well thanks for your help," Mary Jane said. She turned to the group of tired people in the sanctuary. "Okay, gang," she said. "Let's go to the Sailboat Café, we have reservations for thirty minutes ago. Move like you got a purpose!" she commanded.

Her parents picked up their coats and shuffled toward the exit, and Harry joined them, along with Tyrone. Illyana walked over to Peter and Mary Jane.

"You took care of it, I trust," Mary Jane said under her breath.

"Yes," Peter said. "Illyana bisected his heart and dropped him in the river. He's done."

Mary Jane breathed a sigh of relief. "Great. Look, Illyana. Peter and I need to go to this dinner. Can you and Tandy help Gwen out?"

"Am I or am I not the wedding coordinator?" Illyana replied with a wry smile. "Go. I'll deal with it. Gwen will be all ready for your wedding tomorrow."

"Right," Mary Jane said. She turned to Peter. "You intact?"

"Isn't this a little late in the process for you to be suddenly interested in my history?" Peter said, arching an eyebrow.

Mary Jane rolled her eyes. "He's easier to deal with when he's in a lot of pain," she confided in Illyana. "C'mon, you lug," she said, grabbing Peter's arm and dragging him towards the exit. Illyana watched them go with a fond smile, then headed into the back of the church, up the stairs to a classroom.

"How is she?" she said, stepping into a dim room. Tandy looked up. Gwen was laying on the floor, a coat draped over her and another under her head.

"She took quite a physical and mental shock, but she'll be fine," Tandy said quietly.

"Can you watch over her tonight?" Illyana asked. "I mean, maybe you could go have a sleepover at the Stacy residence. Her father is going to be out of his skull with worry."

"I specialize in diplomatic missions," Tandy said wryly. "I'll handle it." She looked at Illyana, and for a moment Illyana had the unsettling feeling that Tandy was looking into her, through her very soul. Tandy stood and stepped near to her.

"You did a good job, Illyana," Tandy said quietly. She pulled her into a gentle hug, as though that were a natural thing to do. She held Illyana at arms length and looked into her eyes with a quiet smile. "Peter and Mary Jane are a bit rattled. You should go with them to dinner."

Illyana felt strange, dislocated, at peace. She had a lump in her throat, and she felt unshed tears glimmering in her eyes for no reason she could explain. Then a stepping disk flared around her and she was gone.

Tandy sighed, kneeling by Gwen. She touched the side of her face, and a ripple of Light passed through her hand. Gwen stirred, and her eyes fluttered open.

"Whu?" she said.

"It's time to go home," Tandy said softly.

**xXx**

Later, Illyana and Peter and Mary Jane followed Mary Jane's parents to Mary Jane's car.

"Go ahead and take them to your place," Peter said to Mary Jane. "It's been great," he said to them with a small wave.

"See ya tomorrow, if you show up," Mary Jane's father said. He got into the car without looking back. Peter sighed.

"I'm gonna catch a ride with Illyana," he said with a gesture, a slightly hunted look in his eyes.

Mary Jane chuckled, bone weary. She shook her head, then kissed Peter on the cheek. "Be safe," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow." She got into the car, started it up, and drove off.

"You are a brave man," Illyana said reflectively as she watched them drive away. "Those people… they won't be the ones I think of when I'm saving the world." She grinned ruefully.

"Yeah," Peter said, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his windbreaker. "I just keep telling myself I'm marrying MJ, not her family."

"Hey, now that we have a chance to talk, I gotta tell you you're pretty good in a fight, bub," she said as she playfully socked his shoulder. He chuckled at that.

"Bub?"

"Bub," she nodded. "I guess I misjudged you." She shrugged. "Anyway, I'm excited about tomorrow. And before I came to dinner, I checked to see if I could pick up Octavius's signal." She shook her head. "I couldn't find him, but scrying underwater is tricky at best."

"He might show up again," Peter said with a shrug. "I'll let you know if he does. Sorry you didn't find out more about your grandfather."

"I'm not," she said distantly. "I don't think I want to know. Upon reflection. Doesn't matter who my grandfather was. What matters," she said, looking at Peter, "is who _I_ am."

"Damn straight," Peter said softly. He smiled at her crookedly.

She glanced around, then gestured, and a stepping disk swirled up around them.

A moment later, Peter was deposited in his living room.

"I am so damn jealous that I can't see straight," he muttered to himself. "How come I can't traverse time and space with a stray thought? No, I get stuck with a snide spider id."

_Wouldn't you rather see what you're swinging over?_

"Yeah," Peter sighed. "Utility is ever the enemy of aesthetics." He grinned.

_Atta boy._

Peter sat on his couch, picking up a clipboard with blank sheets of paper on it. "Time to scribble and crumple our way to some vows."

_I'll help._

"Gawd," Peter sighed. "It's gonna be a long night."

**xXx**

Mary Jane lay flat on her stomach on the couch, her feet sticking up in the air. She doodled a sun, added sunglasses, a fluffy cloud, a dead flower, a boxy sort of Mac truck.

"Having trouble, dear?" her mother asked as she padded over with a mug of hot chocolate.

"Just, you know, vows. Just between us, it's hard," she confided, glancing down the hallway to where her father was loudly gargling.

"I know, dear," her mother said. "Your grandparents didn't agree with my choice either. But when it's love," she sighed, glancing at the ceiling with a secret smile.

"Yeah," Mary Jane grinned. "I may be insane, but he's my pick."

Her mother patted her hand. "Keep doodling, dear. When the words are ready, they'll come to you. Just be sure to get some sleep tonight." She toddled off down the short hallway to Mary Jane's room, where her parents were sleeping.

Mary Jane let the smile that bloomed in her chest show on her face. She added rays to her sun, and scribbled a scorpion. Then she scrawled 'I love Peter Parker' in the margin.

"It's a start," she said.

**xXx**

Gwen and Tandy sat cross legged on the floor of Gwen's room.

"You ladies are alright, you're sure," Mr. Stacy said seriously from the doorway.

"I'm fine, dad," Gwen said. "I really am sorry I forgot to tell you about the slumber party. I promise I won't do it again."

"Well, if there's anything you ladies need," he said, "I'll be up for a few more hours." He looked bone weary from his vigil during his daughter's absence.

"Thank you, Mr. Stacy," Tandy smiled at him.

"Okay then," he said, and he headed down the stairs.

They were quiet for a moment, and Tandy leaned over and pushed the door shut.

"What really happened, Tandy?" Gwen asked quietly, the echo of fear in her eyes.

Tandy thought about the question for a minute. "Well," she said slowly, "it was a Parker Moment."

"Ah," Gwen said. "And everything's okay now?"

"Yes," Tandy nodded with certainty.

"I don't think I need to know any more," Gwen said, looking away. "Thanks for spending the night. I feel a bit wobbly."

"No problem," Tandy said with a smile. She rolled over to sit on her inflatable mattress on the floor. "Want to make some popcorn and giggle about boys until the wee hours, make it a _proper _sleepover?"

"Now you're talking," Gwen said with a broad smile.

**xXx**

The glass office door drifted open slowly, the peculiar silhouette of the Owl framed in the doorway. He hesitantly entered, and got down on his knees, bowing his head.

"You must already know I failed," he said miserably.

Mordred turned from his view of the gleaming city, a benign smile on his face. "Of course I know how it turned out. I watched with great interest." He seated himself at his desk. "What do you think I will do to you now?"

The Owl shuddered. "I beg for a quick death," he said in a quiet voice.

"That is because you do not understand me," Mordred said softly. "I don't mind losing." The Owl looked up, surprised. Mordred chuckled.

"You see," he said, "even a failed attempt has brought grief and disorientation, dislocation and fear at every turn. See what chaos I have accomplished in Strange's ranks. That is why I use others, why I have struck with agents. I will eventually win. I have the time."

He regarded the Owl for a long moment, and the silence grew weighty.

"You obeyed my orders precisely," Mordred said. "You did not interfere. You did not involve yourself. You did not tip your hand or reveal your presence in Octavius's scheme. They have no idea you had anything to do with the attack. Octavius had every chance to succeed, but his failure is not on your head. You preformed flawlessly. And now I will send you to hide. When the time for your great purpose comes, you will be ready. Do you understand?"

"Yeth, Mathter," the Owl said gratefully. "Truly you are great."

Mordred regarded the Owl. "You are dismissed. We will meet again."

The Owl bowed deeply. Then he turned and scurried out. Mordred stood, and looked out the window once more. A slow smile creased his face.

**xXx**

The entire morning of frantic preparation seemed nothing more than a strange dream. As Peter and Mary Jane stood facing each other; he was trim and snazzy in his tuxedo, she was stunning in her sleek and simple wedding dress. The church was comfortably full, but not packed. The happy couple was more than delighted to let Illyana handle the guest book, the gift table, and the frantic phone calls to the wedding photographer who had not yet arrived.

Behind Peter, Harry and Tyrone were slim and tall and debonair. Behind Mary Jane, Gwen was radiant and tearful, quietly sniffling, and Tandy looked on the proceedings with an introspective smile.

Mary Jane had already been given away, and her parents sat next to Aunt May. It was finally time to exchange the vows.

Peter held up his slightly creased and bent index card, glancing from it to Mary Jane. "I would fight monsters for you," he said with a bemused smile. "You give me a reason to fly." His hand lowered, the card at his side. "When no one in the world sees who I am, you will see into my soul for the truth. In the darkest night, you are my reason to come home. I love you now more than the infatuated guy you first met could ever imagine. I will love you all of my days," he said, his voice unsteady by the end and his eyes glimmering with unshed tears.

Tears were rolling down Mary Jane's face. She breathed in, then out, and she raised a bit of notebook paper that had been folded over to a quarter its size. She cleared her throat, then looked at Peter.

"Your love is worth the risk of loving you," she said in a trembling voice. She glanced down at her paper; it rattled as her hand shook uncontrollably. "You make me warm when it is cold," she said. "You are my knight in shining armor. I'll be there for you whether you win or lose life's little battles." She managed a smile, looking back into his eyes. "I love the way you see things that other people never will. For richer or poorer, in sickness or in health, I'll be your one true love," she managed.

The first strains of "Endless Love" started playing as they headed for the unity candle.

"Ode to Joy" was still playing as Peter and Mary Jane and the wedding party formed up in the receiving line except for Tyrone, who got to single-handedly usher the congregation out. Illyana darted over to Peter and Mary Jane.

"Your photographer is in jail for indecent exposure. I know, it's a horrible joke that would be funny if it wasn't true," she said in a low voice.

"My bag," Peter said, "It has a camera."

"Damnation," Illyana said, rolling her eyes. "I had no idea it would be this exciting coordinating your wedding! Okay, okay, I'll get it." She scampered off as the first people walked through the line. Mary Jane sniffed and rubbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"This is why I didn't wear mascara today," she said to Peter.

"Me either," he nodded sagely.

Brilhart came through the line, looking dapper in his gray suit. He shook Mary Jane's hand formally, and there was a glint in his eye as he came to Peter.

"You would fight monsters, huh," he said.

"Absolutely," Peter said, his face serious and his eyes merry.

"I think you really would," Brilhart said, a small smile finding its way to his lips. "Good luck with married life, Parker. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy." He clapped him on the shoulder, and moved on.

**xXx**

"Oh look another towel," Peter sighed as he ripped the paper on another gift.

"Here's one, it's from Strange," Mary Jane said. She quickly opened it. Under the paper was a flat box about the size of an envelope. She popped the latch and tilted the box open. Her eyes grew very wide.

"Plane tickets," she said. She plucked the note from the box. "On your special day, a honeymoon for two. Strange." She examined the tickets. "Yes! Cancun!"

Peter joined her, and picked up the other envelope in the box, opening it. "Holy cow," he said. Inside was a check for ten thousand dollars and a note in the memo, "Expenses".

"You know, Pete," Mary Jane said in a voice full of wonder, "the groom is supposed to handle the honeymoon. Knowing what I know about the situation we're in, I just wasn't going to say anything. Why make plans when Octavius is out there after us anyway, right? But this… this is cool." She looked him in the eye. "You may be a dweeb, Peter Parker," she said playfully, "but your _friends_ are cool."

"Them's fightin' words," Peter said, scooping up a pillow and bopping her with it.

"See, now you're a wife beater," Mary Jane scolded.

"What, you gonna hen peck me?" Peter replied.

"Something like that," she said, grabbing a brace of pillows and squaring off, on her knees on the bed. "Let's get some marital counseling!" she howled as a war cry before she slung her pillows at him.

He laughed as they toppled to the floor, locked in combat. After a few fierce exchanges, they lost the pillows as Peter pinned Mary Jane to the floor.

"You were just luring me into a trap, weren't you," he said, eyes bright as he looked down at his bride.

"Oh, Peter," she sighed. "Have you considered going into police work?"

Peter chuckled until Mary Jane kissed him.

5


End file.
